


For Better or Worse

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, F/M, i write misery not tragedies, omg why, this is why people hate me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-01-18 17:52:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 24,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12393129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: The reader has agreed to an arranged marriage with the mountain's grumpiest dwarf, Dwalin, but is he truly as heartless as he seems?





	1. Love and Marriage

You remembered the day your mother had told you. The look of relief which had overcome her and the sense of dread which suffocated you. You had known it was foolish to agree to her terms but you had not truly believed she would find a dwarf mad enough to wed you. When you were a young dam and the suitors more inclined to seek you out, you had scared them away with your ax.

You had resisted your mother’s pleas to marry for years; decades, truly. But when your father had died just before the Mountain was reclaimed and you returned to the ashes of what remained, you could not deny her. She was devastated. Your only sibling, Kain, had chosen to remain in the Blue Mountains with his wife and children and your mother bemoaned that her last years would be spent alone.

So you had bent and offered to marry any she could find willing. Your sneer was enough to keep most dwarves at a distance but one had dared to accept the challenge. Though, you could not guess at why.

You looked in the mirror and sighed. All you could see was a middle-aged dwarrowdam with grey at her temples and lines forming along brow and lip line. It was likely too late for you to offer any grandchildren to your mother. The marriage was pointless and you were to pledge yourself to a dwarf you’d never get an ounce of love out of.

The thought of Dwalin made you blanch at your own reflection. You had sworn devotion to Thorin on his quest to reclaim your home against the wishes of your own family and seemingly one other. The king’s closest follower had not shown much enthusiasm at your presence among the company. He had watched you when he thought you could not sense him, as if he thought you would turn into an orc at any moment.

You, on the other hand, had been intrigued. You had known Dwalin in Ered Luin. You had trained with him on occasion and often ran into him at the local tavern. He had ever been quiet and painfully stoic, but upon the road, he had hardened to stone. You tried to reach out to him but when you sat close, he moved away, and all he could muster in response to your words were grunts.

_How had he ever accepted your mother’s offer? Did he think she had another daughter?_

You smoothed your hands over the folds of your dress, the bronze silk studded with golden beads and amber. Your mother had chosen it, quipping that it was as close to armour as she could find. A golden net held back your tight curls, a single braid hung loose. Your slippers were uncomfortable around your toes and you were convinced you’d never free yourself of the stiff corset.

You should have been wondering how you were so crazy to marry the Fundin. Sure, you had promised your mother but it was almost worth the disappointment to back out.

You couldn’t be late for your own wedding though and you knew your mother would drag you to the altar herself. You crossed to the door and opened it to the line of dams waiting to guide you to the great hall. They would precede you along the with dwarves of the groom’s party and then you would follow Dwalin along harrowing path to your marriage.

The great hall echoed with music and you were ushered into a small alcove away from the entrance. The dams took their marks as you were hidden just beyond the corner, listening to their slippers fade into the din. The music carried but voices died and the dwarves took their part, trailed at last by the final of their number.

You peeked around the wall’s edge just as Dwalin disappeared beyond the doorway but you did not catch him soon enough to gauge his emotion. As it were, he carried himself along with little more grace than usual. Your cue was given and you stepped forward, nearly tripping on the hem of your dress.

You paused in the door, the music halting suddenly and you felt as if you would collapse. You forced yourself to move forward, one foot in front of the other, as you stared wide-eyed at the dwarf awaiting you. You had never been afraid before. Battle always came with apprehension but you had never felt so genuinely petrified. You could see in his grey eyes how much he hated you already.

You stepped up onto the low altar, wobbling in your ill-fitted slippers, and Dwalin offered his hand to steady you. You smiled in surprise as you accepted it and caught your balance. All too quickly however, he rescinded his hand and looked to the mediator. You pursed your lips as you realized he was just being courteous.

You swallowed as you were smothered by the awkwardness and turned to hear the rites of marriage. The khuzdul swept over you as you stilled your hands from trembling and held your breath until you thought you would faint. You barely even realized when you said “I do”.

* * *

You had stabbed your slice of roast lamb so many times it had turned to mush. Usually, you would have devoured it and several more along with the pile of spiced potatoes served alongside it. But this night, the simmering lump beside you had tainted your hunger. It was as if Dwalin was a kettle, about to reach a boiling point and start whistling and steaming from his nose.

He had not said a word to you since he had accepted his wedding vows and even then, he had not truly been addressing you. He had taken your arm as any newlywed would but it had been so formal, so distant, that you’d have been as comfortable trailing at his heels. Sitting beside him upon your marital dais, you felt as though your blood was turning to ice from merely being next to him.

_Had you made such a dire misstep? Would your own mother’s disappointment have been preferable to that of the dwarf brooding at your elbow?_

Unlike you, Dwalin had no issue with his appetite. He had eaten three thick slabs of lamb and half a vat of potatoes. After all that, he had still managed to drain half a dozen steins of golden ale. You had kept up with him, however. By your count, you may have even out drank him. But the usual warm buzz had yet to wash over you, the alcohol only adding to the ceaseless whirlwind of your nerves.

The second course was served and you let your full plate be cleared. The next looked as delectable as the first but it only had your stomach turning once more. The third course followed soon after and final the immaculately iced cake, decorated with a colourful medley of berries; black, red, and blue.

Your hand shook as you were handed the knife to make the first cut and you passed it onto your husband, shaking your head as you slurred your anxiety. He took without delay and as well as stabbed the cake before relinquishing the knife for the proper serving. You sat back in your seat as you watched your new husband take his own as he glowered beneath his beard darkly.

You leaned forward, trying to catch his eye, unsure of what to say but hoping a look could say what you could not. Dwalin’s grey eyes avoided yours as he motioned for another ale and your desserts were placed before you. You sighed as you sat back and looked for your mother not far from yourself. She smiled at you proudly, seemingly ignorant of your blossoming dilemma, and you were forced to return the gesture.

You lifted your fork and shoveled a forkful of cake into your mouth, chewing tastelessly as you stared straight ahead. You couldn’t bear to look at Dwalin again. Every time you did, the sight of his displeasure, his blatant disgust for you had you struggling to breath. You wondered why he had even agreed to the union.

 _Was this some elaborate plot against you? What had you done to so earn his distaste?_ On the quest he had been standoffish, but he was like that with most. There were times even when he had looked at you in a way which was close to favourable, as if he thought you more than nuisance. You had never thought his partial to you but you had never expected him to detest you so deeply.

What  _had_ you done?


	2. Wedding Daze

You walked down the stony corridor in silence. The only noise to be heard was your breath and that of your new husband; the former coming more and more difficult by the moment. You glanced at Dwalin from the corner of your eye and found him as grim as ever. He seemed to be avoiding looking at you all together and it was as if you weren’t even there.

It would be better if you weren’t. The both of you’d be a deal happier. At least, he would. You had never thought he could be more miserable than he already was. You pulled at the cuff of your dress anxiously as you walked along, nearing your marital chambers with dread. You would spend the rest of your life thus. Walking every night, as if in a death knell, along the stony corridors. Alone.

The silken cuff of your sleeve tore in your carelessness and several beads scattered across the floor. You swore under your breath at your dress as you slid to a halt beside Dwalin. He took forth a key and unlocked the door before him, pushing it open easily as he stood back to let you through. He watched you dully, the first time he had looked at you all night, and you stepped inside with a gulp.

He followed you in as you looked around the sombre chamber, lighting a wall sconce as he did. There was little décor but for the four-post bed, the petite dining table by the hearth and the matching armoire in opposing corners of the chamber. There were few other pieces of furniture, all unremarkable and mismatched. A door stood across from the bed, a bath chamber likely, and a pair of doors faced the one you had entered.

Dwalin tramped across the barren floor, sorely in need of a rug as a draft could be felt emanating from the dual doors. He approached the dead hearth and stacked three logs within, kneeling to strike a flint. Your possessions, as few as they were, would arrive on the morrow and could perhaps bring life to the hostile chambers.

You watched him as you collected the beads as they came loose from your cuff until they ceased to unravel. You set the handful atop the single bedside stand on which a lantern stood. You lit it hoping to add warmth to the wintry space and turned to watch Dwalin lower himself into a cushioned chair which was nearly worn down to its frame. This was to be your life. A home as unwelcoming as your husband.

He did not speak and made no move to begin your wedding night. You had surely married the wrong dwarf if you wished to please your mother. You could not however, neglect to attempt your duty as a wife. Perhaps he could close his eyes and think of another…or his axe. He leaned against the arm of the chair, his eyes shut as he brooded in a half-sleep.

You reached back, unknotting the ties of your dress. The silk fell loose and you let it droop, pulling your arms from the sleeves. You rolled it over your underskirt and hung it from the handle of the armoire, too lazy to venture within. You looked to the only mirror in the chamber, a small rectangle hung crookedly on the near wall. You were far from the ideal bride; too old and grey to fulfill nuptial fantasy

You felt for the ties of your corset but found them poorly placed for your reach. After a few muffled grunts, you dropped your sore arms and turned to the dwarf still inert at the other end of the room. You kicked off your slippers with resignation before quietly padding over to him. Your fingers trembled as you stood before him and reached out fearfully, touching his shoulder as you muttered his name.

“Eh?” He opened a single eye, surprised at your nearness, “Y/N,” It was the first he had said your name and the first he had shown anything but indifference, “What is it?”

“I need…help with my dress,” You pointed to your corset as he opened both eyes and sat up startled, only then realizing you had shed your gown, “I…” He pulled back his chin and nodded, “Right, yea.”

You stared at him a moment, paralysed, before turning around to show the tightly bound lacing of your corset. You were not one for dresses and so you had not considered the task of undressing as a challenge. Perhaps, the act would mimic the unwrapping of a present and Dwalin would be enticed by the mere idea of a tumble, even if it was with you. He was ever dutiful and somewhere, deep inside, he must have the same list as all of his sex.

His fingers were deft and quick and soon your corset went lax and you caught it just before it sagged to far. You loosened the laces and pulled it over your head as you turned to him, holding the stiff garment in your hand as you looked to him expectantly in only your shift. You could not think of a proper invitation, yourself uncertain at the prospect, and so you tilted your head and raised a brow.

Slowly his eyes met yours and left them, travelling the length of your figure deliberately. He shifted in his seat as he considered you and you did your best at smiling. Finally, he looked back to your face as you took a deep breath and he tore his gaze away, looking to the fire darkly. He pushed himself to his feet so that he was close and for a moment, you thought he would turn and kiss you.

But he didn’t. His cheek twitched and he looked over your shoulder as he sidestepped you. 

“You should lay down,” He suggested in a low voice, “It’s been a long day,” He reached up to rub his neck as he turned to the set of doors, “I need some air.” He crossed to them, resting his hand on the handle, speaking with his back to you, “Good night.”

With that he pushed open the door and stepped out onto the balcony carved into the stone of the Mountain. You watched it close behind him and staggered on your feet, the corset falling from your grasp. You had fooled yourself to think this had been anything but a farce. Just because you had what all dwarrowdam did below their clothing did not mean he’d see you any different.

You bent to retrieve your discarded corset and set it on the table carelessly. You went to the bath chamber, as dank as the bedroom, and to the frigid basin of water. You splashed your face, washing away the dirt of the day and the last of your strength. Meeting your own eyes in your reflection you saw the same repulsive creature Dwalin must have.

Greying hair, deepening lines; the ravages of time on a dam never particularly attractive. You must have seemed desperate. A fool. Unaware of your own unsightliness.

 _But then why had he been daft enough to marry you?_  Perhaps he was so heartless that he did not know any better. That he had thought to try marriage to understand something he was too apathetic to feel. He had been wrong. He had chosen the wrong dam.

_You had been wrong, too._


	3. Newlyweds

You had buried your head beneath the pillow, hiding yourself under the covers in your anguish. You wept into the mattress, waiting for your husband to reluctantly take his place next to you. Dwalin would certainly not touch you but you could not imagine he would pass up his own bed after such a long day. But the mattress never shifted and you fell asleep with tears in your eyes.

You awoke, suffocating below the pillow. You rolled over, the other half of the bed vacant. You stretched your arms and slowly pushed yourself up. Dwalin snored in the corner of the room, sitting in the ancient chair, arms crossed and head lolling unceremoniously to one side. He would rather sleep upright than next to you. Your chest seized as it had done over and over since you had stood at the altar.

You closed your eyes and turned away, shuddering as you held back another bout of tears. You rose, your shift thin against the chill of the morning. You left the hearth unstoked and passed into the bath chamber. Your eyes were puffy from weeping and you splashed the frigid water from the basin across your splotchy faced. It almost made you feel alive. Almost.

Dwalin’s bath chamber was nicer than your own, unexpected given the state of the bedroom. You crossed to the faucet, pumping the handle until steaming water spilled from the silver tap. The forge heated the Mountain naturally and pipes were built into the stone wall; a marvel in itself. You watched as the tub filled and stripped yourself of your shift, stepping into the water with relief.

You scrubbed at your skin with your nails, eager to wash yourself of the shame of the previous day. Perhaps you could start over. But if you couldn’t, you wouldn’t give up. You had lived many years on your own and you did not see why that had to change now. If Dwalin truly did not want you, you would not let it ruin everything.

After cleaning yourself thoroughly, you drained the tub and wrapped yourself in a large towel, retrieving your shift from the stone floor. You re-entered the bedroom to find Dwalin once more stacking logs in the hearth. He stood and turned to you as you neared the fireplace, standing close to absorb the warmth of the flames.

“Ahem,” He cleared his throat as he looked away from you, shy at your lack of clothing, “I, uh…I have much work to do today.” He stepped away, brushing his fingers through his few tresses, “My apologies but—”

“You know, you don’t have to sleep in the corner,” You interrupted before he could continue with his excuses, tossing your shift across the bed, “We’re married…”

He looked away guiltily and you shook your head in frustration; was it such a repulsive suggestion that he sleep beside you.

“I have my own duties to see to. You needn’t worry for me.” You dismissed him sharply.

You nearly regretted how blunt you had been. You stared him down as he avoided your gaze and you huffed with irritation. Your turned your attention to the fire, letting it dry the dampness of your body through the thick towel. You could hear the oaf shuffling around behind you and sighed when the door opened and shut noisily.

 _Let him run and hide._ You couldn’t care less.

* * *

Three trunks. You had thought you possessed more but it didn’t matter much whether you had three or three dozen. One held your various weaponry; sword, axe, knives, and pieces of armor. The second; your clothing, and the third; a dozen books, some trinkets collected throughout the years, and the rest of your miscellanea.

You looked around your empty chambers, mourning the loss of them. You had only resided there a little over a year but it had felt like home. You were to relinquish them for your harsh and unwelcoming marital abode. You could at least make it a little less hostile. A carpet and some curtains, maybe some new bedding. You were far from the traditional dam, but you could learn.

You were startled as a pair of footsteps shuffled in behind you, the door left ajar amidst your reminiscing. Your mother smiled at you, reaching out to take you by the shoulders and kiss both your cheeks in greeting, “My daughter,” She preened, “You made such a beautiful bride.”

“Sure, amad,” You scoffed, “As pretty as an ox in silk.”

“Truly, Y/N,” She pushed back your braid and considered you carefully, “You’ve ever been my beautiful daughter.”

“Mmm,” You grumbled as you looked back to the trunks, hands on hips, “I’ve got to get moving. I haven’t much time to waste.”

“Nonsense, what are you doing working on the day after your wedding? You should be celebrating with your husband,” She pinched your side coyly and you tried not to blush. 

You could not look at her for fear that your eyes would betray your failure, “My husband is just as busy as me.”

“Bah, that’s the beauty of marriage. That husband has to listen to you,” She touched your arm gently, “I know, it’s new and scary but you’ll learn, my dear.”

You stared back at her dully, growing annoyed with her banter. She was happy, as you had wished her, but you were less than. The idea of returning to Dwalin’s chambers and doing thus for the rest of your life was daunting. It was a greater defeat than any battle you had ever fought.

“You just listen to me, Y/N,” She had her arm around your waist as she spoke and guided you towards the door, “You go fetch lunch for yourself and that hubby of yours…Oh, he must be quite naughty,” You cringed visibly and she chuckled at your discomfort, “Sorry, I do get carried away. But as I was saying, you take him his lunch like a dutiful wife and I’ll see to it that I find myself some strong, young lads to move your things.”

“Amad,” You pleaded as you turned back to her, “I’d rather do it myself.”  _And not disturb Dwalin,_ you thought.

“Go,” She ordered in that motherly tone which brooked no argument, “Now…and make sure to bring him something sweet.”

She nudged you out the door with a wink, blocking it with her shrinking figure as she grinned at you wickedly. She waved at you in a shooing motion and you finally turned away from her with a resigned moan. You dragged your feet along the corridors in the direction of the kitchens, hoping your mother would call you back before you turned the corner. She did not.

* * *

You swung the bucket at your side as you trudged with dread down the corridors. The heat from the forge grew more intense as you neared the vaulted doors and you stopped before them with a grimace. You chewed your lip, smoothing back your hair in a last effort to make yourself presentable. You subconsciously touched the grey strands along your temples and straightened your posture, hoping to appear graceful.

You pushed through into the noisy forge, the sound of hammers and the occasional holler ringing around you. You had longed to work their but had instead taken up work as a carpenter during the repairs. With the Mountain close to restored, you had yet to resign and take up an anvil. You didn’t mind stonework and the occasional woodcraft and found it calming, and thankfully, solitary.

Among the heads bent over anvils rapt with their work, you spotted a shining, bald cranium. What little hair Dwalin had was tied back at the nape of his neck and his hand moved endlessly at his task. His broad shoulders and thick muscles were visible through the sweat-dampened fabric of his tunic and for a moment, you were enraptured with his decisiveness.

You neared uncertainly, your toe colliding with his anvil as you stood before him and you swore loudly. He looked up in surprise as you coloured with embarrassment, staring back at him wordlessly. In your misstep, you had forgotten why you had come. Upon recollection, all you could do was lift the bucket dumbly before you.

“Um…” You swallowed as his brows lowered in confusion, “I, uh, brought you lunch.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” He stood straight and lowered his hammer, setting it atop the anvil.

“I wanted to,” You lied, barely audible over the crashing of metal, “Can we go in the corridor?”

“Of course,” He accepted though he seemed less than eager as he came out from behind his anvil.

He walked at your side silently as you marched back along the aisle between working dwarves and into the cooler hallway. The door closed behind you as you sat on a bench along the comparatively quiet corridor, Dwalin following without haste. You shimmied over waiting for him to sit and he did so reluctantly.

You set the bucket down between you, removing the cloth which concealed your wares. You took out the sandwiches from within and handed one to him before unwrapping your own. You bit into it silently, waiting for him to speak. He didn’t.

He sat chewing his sandwich with his eyes to the floor. You watched him, your lunch tasteless upon your tongue as he remained as evasive as the day before. You nearly choked as you forced yourself to swallow and crinkled the paper around what was left of your crust. You tossed it into the bucket heavily and crossed your arms.

“Are you ever going to look at me?” You challenged exasperated, “Or speak to me?”

“Wha—” He seemed genuinely puzzled by your chagrin, “I do—”

“Just…ugh,” You stood and wiped your hands on the tails of your tunic, “Enjoy your lunch, alright. I was only trying to do something nice…” You left the bucket beside him, no longer craving the other snacks within, “Like a wife would.”

You turned on your heel sharply and stomped away down the corridor, turning the corner without looking back at him. As if he cared.

Nobody could say you hadn’t tried.


	4. Honeymoon

Not much had changed in the week since your nuptials. Dwalin still refused to look at you, speak to you, or really even acknowledge your existence. After your confrontation outside the forge, a tension had grown between you; a bridge slowly crumbling which seemed irreparable. The only thing that had changed was that he had found the stomach to share a bed with you.

You had thought, at first, that it was progress. That somewhere in his thick skull he had finally processed your mutual predicament. Yet, you had once more been mistaken. He slept with his back to you, as far from you as he could lay, nearly upon the edge of the mattress. Often when you woke up, he was already gone and you were as alone as you had ever been.

Over the days, ashamed of your failure to draw your husband into your marriage, you had avoided your mother. You had avoided most as you hid in your workshop, bent over wood or stone as you crafted your anger with hammer, chisel, and nail. If your mother were to corner you and ask after the state of things, you weren’t so sure you could lie to her. You were overflowing with resent and didn’t know how much longer you could repress it.

Another day and another project. You shaped the aquiline nose of the king and could have sneered at his likeness as it came clearer. Dwalin’s closest friend reminded you of him and it made you want to smash the bust with your hammer. You recalled how your husband had worked over his forge, sweaty and determined, expert in his movements. You had admired him if but for a moment.

Dis had commissioned the piece weeks ago and you had fallen behind in your work. As of late, she had begun to pester you and so you urged yourself out of your procrastination. Besides, she had warned that she would be visiting that day and you needed any sort of progress to appease her with. You broke of the tip of Thorin’s nose, perfectly refining his profile as you sat back to admire your skill.

It was coming along.  _Unlike some things._

You stood to stretch your legs, sat on the short stool for hours. Your shoulders were stiff from hunching over and moving awkwardly to catch the light. You reached your arms over your head until they felt looser and turned just as a knock came at your door. You called for whoever it was to come in as you groaned and pulled out the pail in which you carried your lunch. It was easier to stay hidden in your little nook.

It was Dis, as you had expected. Her dark hair streaked with silver and her blue eyes shining with their usual cheer. From one angle she resembled her younger son and in another, the elder. Her joy nearly made you sick. You pulled out the parcel of biscuits you had packed and chewed on one as the dowager stepped up to the bust of her brother without greeting.

“Hmm,” She had one hand on her chin as she examined it, “It does have his nose…so far. Not much else,” She grazed a finger down the bridge of his nose, “Try to get the right amount of contempt in his eyes when you get to them.”

Dis laughed but you failed to catch her joke in your turmoil. You just couldn’t stop thinking about your damned husband and his idiocy. You were cursed!  _How could you have been so foolish as to agree to marry such an ox?_

“Y/N,” She neared with concern, “You sure you’re alright?”

“Fine,” You mumbled into another biscuit.

“Hmm,” She looked you over sharply, “I see Dwalin’s gotten you into his whole cookie fetish.”

“What?” You nearly choked on your mouthful.

“Oh, he loves them…a little too much,” She said matter-of-factly, “I’m surprised he doesn’t have more of a paunch, if I’m honest.”

“I…” You sighed and tossed aside the biscuit, your hunger suddenly gone, “…wouldn’t know.”

“Right,” She nodded as if figuring out a puzzle, “I think I know what’s going on…marriage is tough, at first, but you’ll get use to it.”

“Sure,” You scoffed and sat on your stool once more, “I’ll trade you Dwalin for widowhood.”

“Don’t say that,” She reprimanded as she pulled up the chair you kept hand for consultations, “What’s he gone and done?”

“Nothing, that’s the problem,” You didn’t know why you were telling her but it was preferable to unloading your troubles to your mother, “He won’t even look at me…I can’t imagine he’ll ever touch me. I should’ve known. I’ve seen enough mirrors to know even he couldn’t bear me.”

“Hey, don’t you be so harsh, you’re as fine a dam as the Mountain has seen. I only wish my hair was still as rich as yours. You can barely notice the grey in yours,” She reached out and touched one of your braids, “It’s not you,” She shook her head; a swan lying to a crow, “It’s Dwalin, he’s always been painfully obtuse.”

“So obtuse that a dam in not but her shift isn’t an invitation?”

“Try wearing less,” She shrugged, “Or at least try being more straightforward.”

“Do you suggest I hold him down?” You pursed your lips as you examined the bust in front of you.

“You might just have to, and not because he’s unwilling,” She said, “Trust me, he’s just a moron. I should know. That dwarf never does anything he doesn’t want to so there  _is_  a reason he agreed to marry you.”

“What do I do then?” You asked desperately; this could be your last chance.

“How busy are you today?” Her blue eyes flared with cunning as she smirked at you. You prayed she knew Dwalin as well as she claimed to.

* * *

Dis was a fool to think this would work. So were you for going along with her ruse. She had left not long ago and not long after you heard the arrival of another. You could hear Dwalin stoking the hearth as he did every night and you looked in the mirror with horror.  _Mahal, you looked ridiculous._

The camisole was nearly too short to cover your bottom, the slit in the side doing nothing for coverage. Your breasts were barely contained above the lace trim and the deep scarlet almost matched the blush spreading across your cheeks and chest. Your hair was loose, not a single braid, and if it weren’t for the grey, you might have even thought it was pretty.

You heard the familiar creak of the rickety chair and steadied your breath as you pressed yourself against the door. You listened to the silence, waiting for more than a grunt or groan. Nothing. You gripped the handle, your hand trembling and willed yourself to open the door. Finally, you found the strength to carry through and you stepped out into the bed chamber, eyes closed.

When you opened them, you found Dwalin in his chair, distracted by a blade he had begun to whet across a small stone. You neared him, your footsteps not so silent that he wouldn’t hear, but he didn’t look up. You stopped before him, waiting for him to respond, but he continued to ignore you. You held back an exasperated sigh and tapped his shoulder.

“Dwalin,” He nodded and you snarled, “Would you look at me?”

“What?” He finally raised his head and his eyes bulged. He lost hold of his knife and stone and gripped the arms of the chair tightly. He began to blabber but you couldn’t tell if he was taken aback in a good or bad way. “Y/N…I, uh,” He stood, careful not to get to close, “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” You spluttered, “I’m trying to be your wife!”

“I…uh, you look, uh…” He gaped as he struggled for words and you stomped angrily at his speechlessness. He couldn’t even find words to lie to you.

“Forget it!” You turned and shoved a chair out of your way as you stormed towards the door. You didn’t understand why he was such a jerk. He had married you of his own will, so why had he yet to act like it.

You pushed into the corridor, slamming the door as you did and marched up the stone, the air cool against your bare legs. You would have cared about your lack of clothing if it wasn’t for the anger seething within you.


	5. The Groom

Dwalin sat stunned in the threadbare armchair. He watched Y/N as she stomped away from him, her bare feet as thunderous as boots. The door slammed behind her and she disappeared into the corridor while he tried to sort through his sudden flood of thoughts. He could not fathom why she would have put on such a display and all for him…

He had been certain that she hated him. When they had stood at the altar and he had seen the look in her eyes; dread, resignation,  _disgust_. He had not truly thought out the marriage but instead recklessly listened to that voice in his head which he so often ignored. It had been more to him than a last chance, for at his age he was well past eligibility, but a dream come true.

It had begun on the quest. Watching her every day, walking along behind her, sleeping so near to her. It had made his heart flutter when she spoke to him and yet he could never find the words to answer her and when he did speak, he always said the wrong thing. That fear, that inadequacy had followed him into their marriage. He had hoped vowing “I do” would unlock the rest of the words trapped within. All he had wanted to say to her for so long.

He closed his eyes and thought back to that day in the forge. _Besi, Y/N’s white-haired mother had appeared from behind the wrought double doors. He had at first mistaken her pale head for that of Balin but her frail figure betrayed her all too quickly. She had a smile on her face, a light of excitement behind it, as she neared several anvils, exchanging a few words with those behind them before retreating with a shake of her head._

_She drew nearer to his, pausing before Arnof’s, a dwarf without courtesy or empathy. Besi’s knobby hand trembled atop his anvil with palsy as she smiled up at him, her lips curving as she spoke. Dwalin could not hear the words and ceased to hammer, hoping to catch some of the conversation. The response was more than loud enough for his ears._

_“Oi, Tal,” He called to his other neighbour, “You hear this? She want’s me to marry that brute of a daughter of hers!” Arnof chuckled as he turned back with a mocking grin, “I ain’t that mad, lady.”_

_“Y/N?” Tal exclaimed, heartily gripping his stomach in his mirth, “Could you even?”_

_“I’ll marry her,” Dwalin’s voice was louder than he intended. He had set aside his hammer without thinking and rounded his anvil with as little consideration, “Besi, I’d b-be honoured to marry Y/N.”_

_He had never stuttered before and was nearly embarrassed as Arnolf and several other dwarves listened to his acceptance. Not because of Y/N but because his own ineptitude. It was far more farcical that a dam should want to marry him. To think Y/N would ever welcome the proposition. He must have been as mad as his brother said he was._

_“Oh, Dwalin, a Fundin,” The old lady was amazed at his unexpected offer, taking his hands warmly in her small ones, “Truly? Oh, Mahal, thank you.”_

_“No, thank you,” He smiled despite himself; he thought of Y/N and the fantasy of going home to her every night, “If she’ll have me, of course.”_

_“Of course, she will,” Besi promised, squeezing his hands tightly._

Dwalin wondered how he had gone wrong. He had been so hopeful. Yet when he had sat beside Y/N and they had dined upon their wedding feast, he could not still his nerves to speak to her. And upon returning to their marital chambers, he was too afraid to lay beside her. He feared he would repulse her, or worse yet, hurt her. He was rough and unskilled in love. He had certainly made that obvious.

 _Mahal, why couldn’t he just speak to her? Why could he not even look at her without trembling?_ She was all a dwarrowdam should be. She cared little for skirts or apron, she spoke straight, and she could match him with any blade. Her hair shone ethereal with streaks of silver, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight, her entire being intoxicated him. How any could ever laugh at the thought of her was outrageous.

He needed to find his courage.  _If he could reclaim a mountain from a dragon, why could he not say a single word to a dwarrow dam?_  This was his last chance. He had told himself that every night since their wedding but he knew this night it was the truth. If he did not act then, he would lose what he never had the nerve to have.

Dwalin stood and focused on steadying his breath as he crossed to the door. He walked the same steps Y/N had those his were heavy for a different reason. In the corridor he listened for any sound of her but all was silent. He tried to think of where she would go. She was his wife, as unbelievable as that was, and yet he knew little of what filled her days.

He wanted to know. He wanted to know everything about her.

First, he went to her old chambers but no answer came. He dared to venture within but found them empty. He continued several flights below to her workshop but again they were vacant. He sighed, thinking if he should try her mother’s chambers but he was too ashamed to think of showing his face to Besi. If Y/N was there, her mother would know all.

Neither did he want to return to his own chambers. It would only remind him of Y/N and how alone he was. Worse yet, it would only make him think of how he was to blame for his own misery. So, he instead went to where always did when he was restless. He climbed the stairs and walked the corridors until he found himself before the familiar doors.

The training rooms of Erebor were his favourite place. He could set aside the worries of the Mountain and trade them for his ax. He pushed inward and stopped short, a figure already swinging his preferred weapon at the centre of the large gymnasium. Y/N was angrily chopping away at a wooden dummy with a practice ax, her blows fearsome and unrestrained.

Her anger was apparent in every chop and he knew she saw him in place of the faceless form opposite her.  She wore nothing but the same chemise she had greeted him in, the satin rising up her still muscular thighs; even at her age, she was fit. He expected no different as she trained as much as he did, if not more.

Dwalin admired the line of her thigh before forcing himself to look at her face. She was visibly angry, her cheeks tear-stained, and her teeth bared with every swing. She grunted with every hit, her voice growing louder yet more strained. Finally, the wood split completely and the dummy broke into three chunks, crumbling to the floor. She hollered in rage and tossed aside the ax, turning and catching sight of her husband.

“Y/N,” He greeted meekly as she growled back at him, “We need to talk.”


	6. Renewed Vows

The wooden dummy shuttered before crumbling to the floor in three chunks of splintered wood. You gritted your teeth and flung your ax in the other direction as you let out an irate shout.  _What were you to do?_  You couldn’t live your life hiding from the dwarf you had so foolishly accepted as your husband. Neither could you live it alongside him if he refused to even acknowledge you.

A dark blur formed in the corner of your eye and you were suddenly aware of another’s presence. You turned to the last person you wanted to see and growled audibly, doing little to withhold your displeasure. You had muted your anger for so long and you would no longer contort yourself to please the daft dwarf.

“We need to talk,” Dwalin announced, and you rolled your eyes visibly, longing to find the axe and take it up.

“I’ve tried talking to you,” You crossed your arms, “Time and again I’ve tried to and now you want to _talk?_  After—”

 _I’ve made a fool of myself_ , you thought. You could feel your cheeks burning as you recalled the scene. You, thinking you were attractive enough to lure a dwarf to lust. It was not as if you had not had lovers in your past but there hadn’t been many and all had been but fleeting dalliances. Distractions from the monotony of your life.

“How come you get to decide, hmm?” You challenged, walking towards him angrily. You did not even realise you were advancing upon him until you were right before him. You jabbed your finger towards his nose as he stared at you agape, “How come we talk when  _you_  say we can? How come I had to chase you around like a moth after a candle?”

You were so upset you could not restrain yourself. You shoved his chest and tried to reach the door way before you started blubbering again, “I am done trying with you, Dwalin.”

“Wait,” He grabbed your arm, not roughly but enough to make you stop, “I’m…sorry.”

“Sorry?” You sighed as you turned back to him, “Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”

“I’m sorry that I’ve been so cold,” He released you, “That I made you think I disliked you. That I made you feel the way I’ve felt my entire life,” He swallowed as he mulled his words, “I’m sorry that I could ever make you feel anything but what you deserve. You deserve to be cherished. To be happy.”

“Wha—” You had barely heard more than five words at a time from the dwarf in the years you had known him. Never had you expected to hear him speak so eloquently, and on your behalf. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“Please, Y/N,” He looked around, “Can we sit?”

He motioned towards a wooden bench along the wall where trainees sat to lace their boots and sharpen their swords. You looked over at the barren furniture and shrugged.  _Where else would you go?_  Your former chambers were bare and you were too ashamed to face your mother. Your only other idea was Dis but you dared not disturb the princess. A night on the floor of your workshop was little enough to lure you even if the alternative was as uncomfortable.

You sat next to Dwalin, examining your nails as you sorted through your thoughts. “Why did it take you so long?”

“I’m a coward,” He admitted as you felt him watching you, “Truly, I…wanted to marry you. I still want to be your husband, Y/N, I just—I was so scared. And when I saw you walking down the aisle, you looked scared too, and I thought it was me who frightened you.”

“Why? Why would you want to marry  _me_?” You scoffed and looked to him darkly, “I’ve been wondering that this last week; I offered myself to you that first night. I tried to act the proper wife. Tried to talk to you, to be close to you. Mahal, I dressed in this horrid thing for you,” You pulled at your scant chemise, “So, I still can’t but wonder, why would you want to be my husband?”

“I didn’t want to…” Dwalin’s lip twitched as he paused, “I didn’t want to hurt you. I thought I would, but I only did so in another way. You, you’re so…perfect. I didn’t think I could make you happy and when I looked at you, that pit deepened, and I was even more sure that you were miserable. The last thing I ever want is to make you unhappy, and I am sorry that I did.”

You held your breath as you replayed his words in your head. Though you would never admit it, even to yourself, you had longed to hear those words. From anybody. That any would care for you enough to even consider your feelings. You looked at Dwalin’s grey eyes as he stared back, shyly, uncertain.

“What do we do now?” You shrugged, “Where do we go from here?”

“I was hoping, if I’ve not already spoiled it for good, that we could start over?” He proposed, his voice low and brittle, “Let’s just forget about this last week and forget that we’re married. Please, Y/N, let me go back and make this right.”

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, the most emotion you had ever witnessed in the bullish dwarf, and you nodded, more to yourself than him. You pursed your lips as you thought, tearing your eyes away from him as you did. You weren’t sure if you could wholly forgive him, you knew you could not forget all that had transpired. But you could not go on thus.

“Alright,” You croaked, clearing your throat as your voice caught, “Alright. Let’s start over then.”

“Truly?” Dwalin’s voice was filled with hope, “Alright then,” His mouth trembled between a smile and disbelief, “Come on, then,” He stood and offered you his burly hand, “Y/N, may I have the honour of courting you?”

“Oh, shut up,” You took his hand roughly and let him pull you to your feet, “Let’s go. I need to sleep.”


	7. Start Again

The morning came quicker than you would have liked. For the first time in weeks, you had escaped the anxious restlessness which had kept you awake. There was new warmth to your still foreign marital bed, though Dwalin’s snores had been overwhelming until you managed to doze. You awoke with a groan, stretching the stiffness from the arm you had slept on only to find the other side of the mattress as empty as the days before.

Your chest seized, and you sat up, searching the chamber as you wondered if you had imagined the whole reconciliation. _Had you been so desperate for peace that you had conjured the entire scene?_  It could not have been fantasy, it just couldn’t. Dwalin had been so kind and for once, so real. He had wished you good night and laid you down gently, tucking himself in beside you. No dream could be so compelling.

The door jolted open and the sound of glass wobbling preceded Dwalin as he pushed himself awkwardly into the chamber. He held a tray of dishes and perilously balanced the tray towards the table. He set it down as he smiled over at you, overturning the sugar dish as he did. You suppressed a chuckle and rolled out of bed, crossing to help him clean up his mess.

“You didn’t have to,” You insisted as you swept up the sugar from the tray, tossing it back into the dish carelessly, “But it  _is_  rather nice.”

“I figured we’d start out right this time,” His voice betrayed his nervousness, an uncertainty which belied his usual stoicism, “I’ve taken the day off from the forge…I hope you’ve not any pressing duties.”

“They can wait,” You waved away his worries, sitting down as you tried to accept your new reality, “You have anything in particular in mind?”

“Tell me you don’t mind the snow,” He ventured as he sat across from you, the chair whining beneath his weight.

“Not at all,” You took a hard-boiled egg and cracked it sharply against the edge of your plate, “I rather prefer it. What exactly do you have planned?”

“Bofur’s gotten together a team of mutts,” He shrugged casually but fumbled his fork clumsily, “And a sled. We could go out and explore the forest…is that alright?”

“Perfect,” You swallowed the white of the egg, “There’s a river–”

“By the old caves,” He finished, “I know the very one.”

“It will do us well,” You offered, “I sort of miss being outside. Miss the quest…”

“Miss having a purpose,” He nodded solemnly, “It’s easy to get lost in here.”

“Well, I’d love to get away,” You stirred your tea with a spoon as he watched, a hazy calmness colouring his usually stern feature, “Not from you, of course.”

You laughed at your own joke and he smiled tepidly. You could still see his hesitation, but it wasn’t so painful knowing then where it stemmed from. In a way, he was a reflection of yourself. Crass and ill-tempered, your emotions enigmatic to all, including you. It would be nice to start over, you thought, but no less difficult than the last week.

* * *

Having delayed unpacking your trunks in the tumultuous early days of your marriage, you had been unable to find your fur cloak among the jumble. Dwalin had offered you one of his own. A sleek brown bear pelt which hung loosely from your figure. As his broad shoulders held taught the fur of his own, you drowned in yours and felt a fool as you walked along with your husband.

Just beyond Durin’s door, a team of dogs waited restlessly as Bofur batted back their impatient nips. Snow had formed a ledge atop his flapped hat and he shook it off as he turned to you and wiped the frost from his mustache. “About time,” He looked between you and Dwalin, “Oh, you two are a pair indeed. Terrifying, I must say.”

“Eh, shut up,” Dwalin boxed his shoulder, pushing him aside as he inspected the dogs, “This should do.”

“As would a ‘thanks’,” Bofur mumbled as he kept clear of your husband.

“Thank you, Bofur,” You squeezed his elbow warmly, “Truly. I know he’s not much with words…trust me, I know.”

“You’re as mad as him,” Bofur grumbled as he crossed his arms, shivering as he turned back to the Mountain entrance, “’Specially if you’ve the stomach to marry him.”

“Oi, you want another,” Dwalin turned with his hand raised, sending Bofur scrambling for the door, “And  _thanks_ , you daft bugger.”

You watched as Bofur disappeared into the darkness, muttering his displeasure. Your husband turned his hand palm up and offered it to you, guiding you through the deep snow towards the sled, “So, my wife,” The title seemed to tremble on his lips, “Am I steering or are you?”

“You know these land better than me,” You set your hands on the bar of the sled, “I’ll allow you the pleasure of getting us lost.”

Dwalin stepped up behind you on the footboard, taking the reins in his hands as he gripped the bar next to yours. He was rigid against your back, keeping you firmly in place as he cleared his throat, He called to the dogs and the sled jolted forward, the team settling to a steady pace as they angled you swiftly down the decline.

The snow flew up around you, but you were warmed by Dwalin, his arms keeping the wind off of you. You reached the plain and the dogs quickly met the treeline, your husband pulling at the leather straps to guide them along the winding paths. You closed your eyes as you relinquished yourself to the brisk air and the smell of snow.

The sled slowed as the path grew less bumpy and you opened your eyes to the shimmering ice of the river, frozen before a perfectly rounded cave, its mouth carved with ancient khuzdul script. Dwalin tied the reins firmly and stepped off the sleigh, offering you his hand once more. You took it as you nearly slipped off the board and let him guide you towards the waters edge.

“So, what exactly did you intend?” You asked as you bent over the river, gazing at your blurred reflection.

“Well, I’ve yet to weigh the sense in it,” He released your gloved hand and stepped back, watching you as you smiled at the ice, “Though I could as easily just sit and watch you for the day.”

Your cheeks coloured as you stood straight and looked to his own flushed appearance, his words seemingly of their own accord. He cleared his throat again, a tic you surmised came with anxiety. The corners of his lips quivered, and he gazed away awkwardly, rolling his shoulders as if to strengthen himself.

“Promise me you’ll not let me drown,” He sighed and reached out his thickly booted foot, letting it hover over the ice before bringing it down upon the surface.

Dwalin stepped out onto the river’s icy hood, his second foot coming down with trepidation, the ice showing no crack or crease. He walked further until he was nearly at the middle of the water and he breathed out with relief. He turned back to you and a genuine smile curled his lips. “Come on then,” He waved to you, “Don’t slip.”

You slowly edge onto the ice, your boots sliding as your arms flapped for balance Dwalin’s soles skated across the surface as he neared to steady you, taking your arm as he led you around the perimeter of the river. After one lap, you gained your bearings and soon you were skimming over the frozen water with ease, giggling as you kept hold of your husband. You had not felt so cheerful since your childhood. Long ago.

“Oh,” Your foot slipped from beneath you and you began a split, painfully heading for collapse atop the ice.

Dwalin kept hold of you, twisting you around so that you landed softly upon the thick ice, looking down at you with concern. “Y/N, are you alright?” His voice was panicky, and his grey eyes dilated.

You laughed as you released his arm and clutched at your sides. The thought of the sight of you, the look on his face, and the whole childish affair was suddenly amusing. And to your surprise, you were enjoying it. All of it. And with Dwalin of all people.

“I’m fine,” You chortled as he looked back confused, “Now help me up,” You reached out and he took your hands wordlessly, lifting you to your feet, You steadied yourself as you separated from Dwalin and set your feet as much as you could atop the slippery surface, “Alright now…” You set your hands on your hips, “First one to the other side wins.”

With the challenge issued, you charged forward across the ice, stumbling but keeping upright as you barrelled towards the river’s lip. You heard Dwalin’s heavy footsteps at your heels and looked back to find him following you with a grin, his cheeks rosy in his excess. You turned back to the finish line as he collided with you, the pair of you sliding the last foot across the ice before crashing into the snow in a fit of giggles.

Perhaps marriage wouldn’t be so bad as you thought.


	8. Early Days Yet

After your sojourn into the forest, you were reluctant to return to the sombre interior of Erebor. The dogs had carried the sled swiftly back to the Mountain and Dwalin had sent you ahead so that he could return them to their kennels and lodge the sleigh. You dragged your feet back to your marital chambers, the snow having melted on your boots and soaked through by the time you reached them. You pushed inside and groaned, halfway between a sigh and a yawn.

You stripped yourself of your thick coat and unlaced your boots, kicking them into a pile beside the door. Your gloves and hat you hung with your jacket and you untied your thick hair, now tangled from your childish excess. As you waited anxiously for your husband, you kept yourself busied, brewing a pot of coffee in the ancient iron urn and setting out two cups for you upon the table.

Looking around the chamber you decided there was much to be done. A carpet without frays would lend some warmth and perhaps a few new pieces of furniture. The bed would need better dressings and a tapestry would keep the winter from piercing so bitterly. 

You were blindly pouring coffee when Dwalin entered, his beard damp with melted snow and nose still rosy from the cold. He removed his gloves and sent you a rare smile. “Y/N,” He bowed his head as he continued to undress before joining you at the table, “You didn’t have to.” He motioned to the mug before him as he sat.

“I needed one myself,” You explained, “And my mother taught me to share.”

He nodded as he lifted the cup and sniffed at the brew within, giving a content purr.

Silence followed as you sipped at your own coffee, but this time it was different. For a moment, you and your husband avoided looking at each other, the shyness of your still young marriage lingering. But when your eyes met, you smiled, and he returned the gesture once more, lowering his cup.

“I wanted to ask you…long ago,” He shifted in his chair, slanting his lips as he considered his words, “On the quest I mean, I thought of asking it.”

“Then ask,” You prodded, amused by his hesitation.

“In Ered Luin, did you…did you ever notice me? I mean, there was the odd occasion when we, um, met, but it was never more than, um, uh—”

“Fleeting,” You finished for him, “I did. I thought you were a right mule’s arse,” You shrugged, “And you did little to improve my impression upon the quest, but I’m sure I gave an equally unfavorable one.”

“No, no, you didn’t,” He rubbed his neck nervously, “I thought, well, I don’t what I thought. What I think of most dams; they’ve not the time for me.”

“You shouldn’t think that,” You were surprised by his candour, but you knew him to never say much without purpose. You had always liked that about him, though at times he seemed crass. “I mean…I don’t know. I guess I think the same of myself. I thought my mother was joking when she said you’d marry me, but—anyways, I don’t want to talk about my issues. I want to just enjoy…us?”

“Us,” Dwalin assured and took a long draw from his mug, “We’ll learn to tolerate each other soon.”

His jape set you off-kilter, but it was nice to see humour in the awkward situation and him. You were starting to think you had been wrong about the gruff dwarf, but you could not push away your foreboding altogether. Something had to go wrong. It always did.

* * *

You woke up warmer and more comfortable than you had in weeks. Dwalin had slung his arm around your middle and was pressed against your back. It was an unexpected embrace but not unwelcome. His snores rustled your coarse hair and you carefully reached down to touching his thick hand just below your breast. It was the first time you had felt so intimate with a man.

You had been physical with dwarves before; carnal and unfeeling, but never had any held you in such a way. You and Dwalin, however had not yet engaged in the more sensuous acts, but this was better. Besides, you did not want to hurry into it. You had tried that and only humiliated yourself. If it was to happen, it was better to let it do so naturally.

Dwalin’s thick arm around your waist felt so different. It made you feel like a dam; feminine. It was peculiar to you, long feeling gawky and too rough for your gender. You were disappointed thus, when his snores quieted, and he lifted his arm to stretch and yawn as he rolled onto his back. You turned to look at him, admiring the sleep which crinkled his eyes.

“Good morning,” You could have sung but you kept your voice even.

“Morning,” He grumbled, the corners of his lips creasing upward as he looked over at you, “Beautiful.” He breathed before pressing his mouth closed as if trying to rescind the word.

“I—” You wondered if he could see clearly yet, “That’s sweet, but—”

“True,” He finally exhaled, “I meant it I just…I’m not use to my thoughts just coming out like that.”

“You don’t have to say that,” You sat up and covered your face.

“I mean it,” He reached over, rubbing your back, “I think you’re beautiful, Y/N.”

“Sure,” You scoffed lowering your hands, “Me and my greying hair and wrinkles.”

“Are ye blind, lass?” He sat up, “Take a look at me. My hair’s long gone and what’s left is dusty. Don’t even talk to me of wrinkles. Don’t you put yourself down like that,” He put his arms around you shoulders and pulled you close, kissing your forehead gently, “I don’t like it when you say those things because you’re lying to yourself.”

“No, you’re lying,” You pulled away from him, longing to bask in his tenderness but a few flowery words could not make you pretty. “I know what I am.”

“Stubborn,” He muttered as he watched you cross to the hearth and hang the kettle on its hook.

You stoked the fire silently as you avoided his gaze. He was right, you were being stubborn but sometimes it was harder to hear nice words than the bad. At that moment, you were starting to long for those days of quiet. He was talking entirely too much.

You stood and as you looked for your robe, you caught your reflection in the only mirror. Even through the dust you could see the lines around your mouth and eyes. Your hair looked a bird’s nest and the grey was spreading at the roots. Even when you were young, you had never been beautiful. Age had hardly helped that.

“Y/N,” You had not heard Dwalin rise, and so he spooked you when he touched your shoulder, “Are you alright? I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m fine,” You insisted, “I just…I’m not beautiful, okay? I want you to know that. I’m not a pretty dam, but I’m the one you’re stuck with unfortunately.”

“Y/N, please—”

“No, stop,” You knew you were being stupid but all you could think of were those years of being told otherwise; hideous, ugly, ‘half a dwarf and half a dam’. You had been called many names, but this was too much. “I just…need coffee.”

“Hmm,” He raised his hand to touch your cheek, but you backed away, turning to rinse the mugs from the night before, “Me, too. Please.” He mumbled these last words as you worked silently, berating yourself inwardly;  _why did you have to ruin everything?”_


	9. Happily After

Your nose nearly touched the oak as you carved the line of a bird’s wing precisely. When you finished with the tedious decorations, you would do a final sand and stain the wood a dark shade of mahogany. The desk would be a fine piece for Ori’s study and a stately replacement of the decrepit walnut table he was currently using. The commission hadn’t been unexpected, but the meticulous nature of your instructions was at times labourious.

Occasionally, in his innate curiosity and friendliness, Ori would sit with you and watch you work. He would make small talk despite your ineptitude in such matters and his company was not so irritating as you expected. That day, he had forgone his usual audience and you were slightly relieved for it. When he was there, and you were absorbed in concentration, you would catch him staring at you a little too long. It made you oddly uncomfortable.

You stood, brushing away the wood shavings which had gathered along your work apron. A knock came at the door and you sighed audibly. Hopefully it wasn’t him. You needed one day to yourself. As of late, you had felt crowded. Dwalin and his sweet words and Ori’s observations were all too much. You and your husband were still navigating your marriage, trying to figure out which way the other was going.

_Why did he have to be so nice?_

You called for whoever it was to enter as you set down your chisel and walked around the desk, examining for any irregularities. There were a few details you could tweak but otherwise, it was ready to be smoothed and polished. You looked to the door as Dwalin entered, a pail in his hand and a peculiar half-smile on his face.

“I brought lunch,” He looked you over, nearing to kiss your forehead in a newly acquired habit. He mused over your sleeves rolled up to your elbows, your tunic collar loose, and hair straying from its tie, braids hanging heavily with sweat, “You look like you need a break.”

“I do,” You agreed, wiping the dust off your hands with the rag tucked into your apron, “Thanks.”

“Not at all. To be honest, I needed to get away from the anvil,” He sat in the same chair Ori usually took, “All that clanging sometimes makes my ears ring.”

“Did you finish those knobs?” You pulled up your stool as he began to unpack his tidings, “The desk is pretty much done, I just need the last touches.”

“Aye, I’ll bring ‘em tomorrow,” He handed you a thick sandwich wrapped in paper, “Ori will love it.”

“He better,” You grumbled, tearing back the paper, “He’s a tad bit impatient, in his own way.”

“He’s…quirky. That’s what Thorin says anyhow. I call it something else,” Dwalin chuckled and bit into his sandwich, “But he’s a good dwarf and it’s a fine desk.”

“Mmm,” You chewed on the crust and brushed back your damp hair, “I think I might just take an afternoon off tomorrow. One this thing’s been stained, I’ll not be able to touch it for some hours and my other commissions aren’t so pressing.”

“You should, you deserve it,” He shrugged, smiling with a closed mouth as he gnawed his lunch, “And tonight, you can just relax. I’ll make sure of it myself…my brother always said I was stubborn, but you just don’t sit still.”

“Hmmp,” You stifled a laugh through your mouthful, swallowing with a grunt, “I guess…I just get so restless. Now that we’ve no where to go, no mountain to reclaim, I long for an adventure but all I can do is work.”

“Me, too,” He nodded, his eyes staring past you in an odd moment of pensiveness, “But let’s just have one quiet night. We’ll eat, have some tea, snuggle?”

“Sure, sounds wonderful,” You had yet to initiate anything more than a prolonged cuddle and careless kissing with the burly old dwarf. The two of you were like shy teens around each other but it was exciting nonetheless. When he held you, it was soothing and all you needed. “Is this what getting old is? Being boring?”

“No, being content,” He tilted his head, his grey blue eyes sparkling, “I hope.”

“I am, I think,” You were slowly growing accustomed to your new life, not feeling so lost as you had when you first came to the Mountain. The stone walls were no longer so cold nor the corridors so dark. “I am.” You assured as you reached for the flask, “Very.”

* * *

Dwalin was nearly falling over himself and the food he had just eaten churned in his stomach. He nearly knocked Ori onto his back when he burst into his own chambers, the space unusually fragrant with rose petal. Dwalin kept the scrawny dwarf from bowling over and held him steady, trying to still his own kinetic nerves.

“Will it be ready?” He asked, his voice brittle.

“Yes, yes,” Ori assured him, gently releasing himself from Dwalin’s grip, “It’ll all be just fine. Bombur’s hard at work on a lovely three course meal, Bofur and Nori have agreed to help bring it up at the appropriate time, and I’ve the chamber tidied and all ready.”

“Okay, okay,” Dwalin rubbed his chin and looked around, “The portrait!”

“Right here,” Ori was uncharacteristically calm as Dwalin had taken the role of the high-strung nitpicker, “As you requested.”

Ori handed over a canvas wrapped in thin cloth and Dwalin took it daintily. It was the reason for Ori’s new desk, not that he hadn’t wanted a new workspace. Dwalin had never been skilled at subtlety but his plan had worked. He uncovered the portrait of his wife, nearly gasping as he uncovered the pigment mixed to capture all that made her beautiful. The contrast of shadow and light cast her exactly as he saw her; immaculate.

“It’s beautiful,” He longed to touch the image of his beloved, but he feared he’d ruin it.

“Thank you,” Ori smiled bashfully, “I thought so myself but an artist should never favour arrogance.”

“You are truly gifted,” Dwalin looked up and tramped over to the mousy dwarrow, clapping his shoulder, “It is exactly what I wanted.”

* * *

You were exhausted. All you longed for was a stein of ale and your bed. You dragged your feet to your marital chambers, yawning as you longed to doze wrapped in the arms of your husband. You hoped he had not become tied up in his work. You hated waiting on him and you feared you’d fall asleep before he returned.

You entered your rooms with a sigh, untying the string of your apron as you stopped short by an unexpected sight.  _Was this the right chamber?_ You looked around the newly decorated room; a carpet filled the void beneath the table and chairs, tapestries with scenes of ancient wars hung facing each other upon the walls, flowers stood in a vase over the hearth, and everything was spotlessly clean. The chairs had been exchanged for a pair with lusher cushions and a loveseat near the fire.

If Dwalin did not stand waiting for you amidst it all, you would have turned in search of the proper door. His side tresses were combed smooth, his beard was neat, and he wore a stiff embroidered tunic of jade with dark leggings and polished boots. It had to be a dream.

“Y/N,” He neared and kissed your cheek, “Welcome home.”

“Wha—what is all this about?” You kept looking around, trying to wake yourself but it was too real.

“It’s been three months since we married. I know it’s not very long but I thought it was well past time we dressed this place up,” He took your hand and kissed the back of it, “I want you to know that I mean for this marriage to last.”

“Oh, Dwalin, you didn’t have to do all this,” You let him guide you to the table, laden with cover trays which radiated savory and sweet aromas, “Not that I don’t appreciate it after such a long day. I just—can’t believe all you’ve done…for me?”

“For you, amralime,” The word made your heart stop as you sat.

“Amralime?” You echoed as he released your hand, searching the chamber for an item unseen.

“Amralime,” He turned back to you, a concealed rectangle under his arm as he neared, “I mean it, Y/N, but I think I’ve always felt so,” He stopped before you and held out the bundle, “I love you.”

“Love me?” You hesitated to take the parcel, leaning it in your lap as he watched you.

“Of course,” He bent and kissed your forehead, “Now open your gift. Please.”

“Um, alright,” You gulped, your drowsiness having sloughed away in lieu of your shock. You peeled away the cotton secured around the frame and revealed an image both familiar and strange. It was a portrait of you, but it was not identical to your reality. You looked softer and happier. Almost pretty. “Ori?” You looked up with suspicion, untying the riddle before you, “The two of you—”

“And a couple others helped with the rest,” Dwalin grinned coyly, “I wanted you to see yourself through my eyes.”

“Your vision is fading with age, I see,” The joke fell flat and tension rose once more.  _Why couldn’t you just take a compliment?_  Your heart fluttered as you looked back to the portrait, tracing the line of your nose with your finger, “Dwalin,” You set aside the frame and stood, “Thank you.”

You reached out and pulled him to you, kissing him deeper than you ever had. Heat radiated from your lips and through your chest and limbs. Dwalin embraced you as your doubts receded and you found yourself in him. _How was it that someone so wonderful could think you just the same?_

You pulled away and looked up into his eyes, reaching to smooth his beard, “I love you, too.”


	10. Midlife Crisis

Happiness always made you paranoid. Despite the marital bliss you had attained with Dwalin, something felt as if it were about to snap. You saw harbingers in ever shadow and every word set your hair on end.  _Why did you always have to look for the bad in the good?_

You bent over a slab of marble, chiseling away at what would be an elaborate vase. Dis had commissioned the pedestaled urn for her receiving chambers, her luxurious taste fueling your business. White dust powdered the front of your tunic and you could feel it across your forehead, forming a paste as it mixed with your sweat. As of late, you felt as if you were boiling over.

At night, you tossed aside the covers, the warmth of your husband’s arm had grown stolid. As much as you desired his intimacy, you often found yourself to hot for comfort, especially after your more lurid exercises. And your stomach cramped painfully at times, your back aching, and your hips sore. You were falling apart.

A knock sounded at the door and you called for your visitor to enter, setting aside your hammer and chisel. To your surprise, it was not Dwalin with your lunch but rather your mother, looking smaller than the last you had seen her. As much as age was catching up to you, it was shrinking her and it made you grim to think of.

“Amad,” You greeted with a smile, standing to meet her.

“Oh, please sit,” She waved you off and took the other stool, “I’ve only come to check in,” She smooth the folds of her skirt as she looked you over, “You look rosy.”

“I’m hot,” You fanned yourself as you retook your seat, “I just can’t stop sweating these days.”

“Mmm,” She frowned and shook her head, “Well you’re not young anymore, as funny as it is for me to say. But you’re no spring chicken,” She chuckled but it died quickly in her throat, “Your time has likely come, dear.”

“I figured as much,” You grumbled, the realization that you were cresting the hill striking you more heavily than you expected.

“I fear you waited a bit too long to marry,” She shrugged but you could see the disappointment in her, “Though, you can have a happy union with just two. It is not unheard of for perfectly fertile couples to go without a child. Dwarven blood is unkind in that manner.”

“Please, amad, I do not want to speak of it further,” You wiped your face with a rag, “I know I’m old. I look in the mirror every day and see it. All this grey isn’t dust,” You pointed to your temple darkly.

“Being old isn’t all bad,” She tutted, “I get to see you happy, which I can see that you are,” She smiled and reached out to touch your hand, “I never thought it would work out so well but I see the way that old donkey looks at you.”

“Don’t call him a donkey, amad,” You laughed despite your anxiety, “He’s more like a bear for all his hair.”

“Mahal knows none of it found his head,” She mused and you rolled your eyes; your husband would not be keen on this conversation, “Tell me dear, is he still able to…you know, please you?”

“Amad!” You nearly shouted.

“Oh, even an old harpy like me thinks about those things and if he can, he’d be quite—”

“We have a healthy marriage bed, amad, and that is all I wish to say on this matter,” You huffed and crossed your arms. You hoped she did not notice you blush as you recalled how attentive Dwalin was a lover.

A knock pierced the silence before it could grow suffocating and Dwalin cracked open the door, “Am I interrupting?” He looked between the two of you, hesitating to come further.

“Not at all,” Your mother stood, waving him inside, “I was just about to go. I have some errands to attend to and Bombur is waiting for a recipe I promised him, and you know how that one is about food.” She kissed you on the forehead, doing the same to Dwalin before she neared the door, “Have a nice lunch you two.”

Dwalin waited for her to leave before he turned back to you, setting down his lunch pail as he pulled the stool nearer to your own and pecked your cheek. “How are you, amralime?”

“Tired,” You wiped away more sweat and leaned forward to ease your back, “I’ve still much work to do though.”

“You must eat, though,” He argued as he began to unwrap the food, “What were you and your mother arguing about today?”

“We don’t always argue,” You nudged him, “And nothing special. She was just checking in.”

Dwalin handed you a thick sandwich and you bit into it, hoping to curtail any more questions. You were in no mood for talking as dark thoughts tugged at the corners of your mind.

* * *

You weren’t feeling well at all. Your lunch had sat heavy in your stomach and the hot flashes had not ceased. You set aside your tools early that day and resigned yourself to a visit with Oin. The old medic was the only you trusted. Always blunt and honest, you knew he would confirm your fear that you had reached the end of your virility.

You dragged your feet reluctantly and kept to the less frequented corridors. You weren’t in the mood for niceties and the closer you go to your destination, the more on edge you felt. It was reality and yet your mind rejected it. You did not want to accept that you had wasted your years.

It wasn’t that you had particularly yearned for offspring, but having it no longer be a possibility created in you a sense of loss. It was as if you had never even had the chance to consider it. It was the same cruelty of life which had so long withheld you from companionship.

You knocked on Oin’s door, the sound barreling down the corridor. You waited but no answer came and you were nearly relieved. It would be easy enough to retreat and avoided reality for another day. As you made to turn back, the stone creaked and the grey-haired medic appeared groggy and in disarray. Likely he had fallen asleep in his chair.

“Y/N, I wasn’t expecting you today,” He yawned, “My apologies for taking so long. It is late and I’ve not many patients today.”

“Not at all, I know I did not exactly make an appointment,” You rubbed your neck as you felt sweat beading along your hairline, “But I was kind of avoiding this whole…thing.”

“Well, come in,” He straightened up and smoothed his hair, opening the door wider, “We shouldn’t take too long and you’ll be early enough to meet Dwalin before he sets of from his anvil.”

“Yeah, um,” You closed the door behind you and frowned, “Can we not mention to him that I was here?”

“Of course, I never speak beyond the bounds of privacy,” He nodded and stepped closer, looking you up and down, “You are well?”

“Very, just aging,” You sat down on the stone table he reserved for his patients, “And it’s become very obvious.”

“Oh yes, the years can be rather unkind to dams,” He said awkwardly, “Tell me, what troubles have come to you.”

“I’m always sweating,” You began, relief washing over you at the prospect of unloading your burdens, even if there was not much he can do, “And my stomach cramps horribly. My hips and back ache endlessly and I just feel…off.”

“Hmm,” He narrowed his eyes as he scratched his chin, “It sounds climacteric. And when is the last you bled?”

“Um,” It had been quite some time, the months of your marriage passing by more swiftly since you had grown closer to your husband, “I’m not sure but I am late…if it is to come at all.”

“Mmm,” He nodded and crossed to a basin, washing his hands, “If you would, I should be inclined to do an exam…to be certain that I can offer you the proper treatment for your discomforts.”

“Um, of course,” You agreed awkwardly, taking his meaning of what he was intending to examine.

Oin turned his back as you stripped down to your underclothes, advising you to slip under the sheet folded over the table. You confirmed your readiness and he approached lazily, unfazed by the intimacy of his task. You bent your legs as he lifted the sheet and peered underneath, a tension which only you felt adding to the heat along your brow.

“Well,” He ceased his prodding and let the sheet fall over your legs, “You were wise to come see me. Especially if you’ve been feeling this way for so long.”

“Oh?” You sat up as he washed his hands once more, taking his time as he thought.

“You’re body is…changing but not exactly as you think,” He approached as if you were a dangerous beast, “My dear, I’m not going to delay the inevitable so I’ll say it straight. You’re with child.”

“I’m what?” You were stunned, nearly breathless as your mouth fell open.

“The symptoms are easy to confuse and given your age, it is not beyond question to assume as you did,” He dried his hands, yawning into the towel, “I should give you some time to dress, but we are done here. You’re healthy and all should be well. No more ale and keep your meals regular,” He neared the door which led to his study, “Come see me in another month and we can check in on your condition.”

“Very well,” You sighed, still gobsmacked, “Oh, Oin, wait,” You called to him, “Please, don’t say anything to Dwalin.”

“Not my place dear,” He bowed his head, “But he’ll figure it out sooner or later.”


	11. Loose Lips

You wiped the corner of your mouth with the soiled handkerchief, tucking it absently into the pocket of your apron as you bit down on a mint leaf. Your morning sickness came earlier and more violent with each passing morning and it came become increasingly difficult to hide from Dwalin. You had taken to departing before the waves roiled your stomach, giving your husband vacant excuses and hiding in your workroom.

The door had remained ajar in your flight from the small chamber, so desperate had you been to reach the commode. You were surprised however to find company awaiting you within, Dis standing patiently by the stone vase you had only recently finished. She examined it with her deep blue eyes, running her fingers along its rim with a twitch of her lips.

“Beautiful,” She said as she looked up, “Though I’d say you look worse for wear.”

“I’m tired,” You sat heavily on your stool, wiping away the sweat from your brow. The hot flashes hot not ceased and you could not cool yourself even in the frigid air outside the Mountain. “The vase is done, if it meets your standards, that is.”

“Beyond,” She crossed her arms, stepping past the plinthed urn, “Are you certain your well, dear?”

“Just fine,” You searched evasively through your tool chest, “I’ve a lot to do these days. Your son’s wedding has people in the mood to commission gifts.”

“Oh yes, I know it well,” She smiled and took the other stool, her skirts folding elegantly around her, “Kili is so excited, though I can say less of my brother.”

“What in your mind would make you think Thorin would bless a marriage between the prince and an elf?” You pondered, turning to chair leg you had been shaping before your flight, “How you ever convinced to condone such a union is beyond me. I should know, I’m married to the only dwarf more stubborn than our King Under the Mountain.”

“Ha, that you are,” Dis scoffed, “And how, may I ask, is that going? The two of you seem quite….content.”

“I suppose we are,” You shrugged, you had diverted her once but her meddling always seemed to turn upon you, “As much as any married fools, I’d say. We tolerate each other.”

“Oh, don’t lie to me, Y/N, I know you are giddy for the donkey and him,” She nearly swooned, “I’ve never seen him so careless. He is madly in love with you.”

“Mmm,” You grumbled and focused on your work. And keeping down what was left in your stomach.

“You really need to learn to take a compli-” Before Dis could finish her sentence, you had dropped the chair leg and raced to the bowl of her new vase, spewing your guts within, retching painfully over it. “Mahal, dear, are you–Oh, Mahal! You’re–”

“I’ve got a bit of a flu,” You lied, groaning as you peered into the vase, “I’ll have that cleaned before you take it.”

“A flu my arse,” She nudged your shoulder, forcing you to stand straight. She looked your over, pinching your bloated cheeks before rubbing your subtly rounded stomach. Even through your apron, it was becoming a little too obvious, “You’ve got a child in there.”

“Shh,” You waved her away and padded over to close the door, “Please, don’t tell anyone.”

“Don’t tell? But why not, Y/N, that’s wonderful news,” She was nearly agog as she clasped her hands together, “Dwalin must be ecstatic.”

“Not really,” You bit your lip, searching for another mint leaf in your pocket, “I’ve not, uh, told him.”

“Are you mad?” She almost screeched, “Why wouldn’t you tell him? It’s a gift. Not many dams, even those younger than you, are blessed so early in their marriage, if at all.”

“Yes, younger than me,” You sighed, gripping your aching hips, “I’m old, too old for this and I–what if I lose it? What if I get Dwalin’s hopes up, mine too, and it doesn’t happen? What if he’s not happy about it?” All your worries were streaming out of you, “What if he hates me? I don’t know that he wants a child. How long will he continue to want me?”

“Y/N,” Dis seized your shoulders as if you would attack her, “You are mad! Dwalin is silly for children, I watched him with my own boys when they were young. I couldn’t imagine he’d spurn his own dwarfling, especially with you.” She touched your cheek kindly, “You must tell him.”

“I–I can’t,” You forcibly lowered her hands, releasing her as you turned away, “I just can’t. And I trust you won’t either,” You reared on her sharply, “Let me tend to my own troubles, please. You don’t understand, you just don’t, alright?”

“I’d never, it’s not my truth to tell,” She said softly, “But it will do you no good to keep the secret for long. You or your baby,” She sniffed and gave a sympathetic smile, “And I expect that vase thoroughly cleaned by the time my boys come to fetch it.”

“Of course,” You nodded nervously, toying with the edge of your apron, “It’ll be as good as new.”

“And you,” She neared, “You take care of yourself.” She pulled you into a warm embrace, holding you just a moment before rescinding her arms and regaining the stature which marked her as Dowager Princess, “Dwalin’s slow, but he’s not that slow. He’ll notice that stomach soon enough.”

* * *

Dwalin was certain he had done something wrong, but he just couldn’t remember what. As of late, his wife had grown as distant as when they had first married. She slept beside him, blankets thrown away from her and as far from him as she could get. She slept early and left even earlier than that. When he touched her she flinched and when he spoke to her, she was silent.

Yet, even as he felt her slipping away, he could not help but admire her. He wished so desperately her could reach her, comfort her in whatever grief had risen in her so suddenly. He would watch her as she sat by the candle in the evening, bent over a book she did not seem to be reading. Her cheeks rosy and eyes glistening.  _How had she grown even more beautiful than the day he had married her?_

He was roused from his thoughts by a sudden presence at his side. Without realizing, Dwalin had ceased his hammer and stood with his arm mid-air, ready to descend upon the the anvil. Thorin leaned against the iron and looked curiously at his oldest friend.

“Hey, you alright?” He tilted his head, “You’ve been still as a statue for nearly five minutes. It’s kind of creeping me out.”

“Huh,” Dwalin glanced at his hammer before setting it down carefully, “Yeah, I, uh, just need to get some air,” He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, “Probably some water, too. I’m sweating like a hog.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to mention it, but–are you sure you’re alright?” Thorin’s humour was curtailed by his concern at his friend’s distraught eyes, “Come on, let’s get you out in the hall. You can cool down there.”

Dwalin shook his head as if shaking off some unseen veil and followed his king blindly between the rows of anvils. He could barely recall the steps which had carried him to the bench just outside the doors of the forge. It was the same place where he and Y/N had sat and shared their first lunch together.

“A lot on your mind?” Thorin’s voice broke Dwalin’s trance once more.

“Hmmm,” Dwalin looked up stunned, “Uh no, not really.”

“I’ve just been talking to you for a whole minute and you’ve been staring at your hands as if they belonged to someone else.”

“I’m sorry, I just–” Dwalin leaned against the cool wall, “It’s Y/N, she’s been acting…different.”

“Ohhh,” Thorin said in understanding, “Well, I’ve not the trouble of a wife so I don’t know how much help I can be to you.”

“Yes, well, I’m not so experienced myself,” Dwalin grumbled, “She’s seems like she’s mad at me, or sad, or something. It’s like she’s avoiding me and after…so much. I thought we had figured it out, you know?”

“I don’t, thankfully, but I can imagine,” Thorin grinned, “But you know dams, they have their moods…their cycle. You know, it could just be her time.”

“Uhhh,” Dwalin didn’t know how to answer, he had never given much thought to that matter. It was entirely baffling to even consider, “I don’t–”

“Speaking of the very dam,” Thorin lowered his voice, looking behind his old friend as footfalls turned the corner, “I think the old lady’s come to visit.”

Y/N seemed as surprised as Dwalin as she stopped beside the pair, reluctant to slow her steps. She crossed her hands across her middle and mustered a weak smile. “Oh, I didn’t expect to see you out here.”

“Dear,” Dwalin rose and kissed her forehead, though he felt obtrusive, “How are ya?”

“Fine, fine,” She mumbled, “I was just, uh, taking a break.” She looked sickly as she glanced between the two dwarves, “Thorin.”

“”Y/N,” The king bowed his head cordially, his eyes cryptic as he watched her fidget.

“I’ll see you after work,” She announced suddenly, “I must be off…and I’m sure you need to be back to your own work soon enough.”

“Uh, sure,” Dwalin touched the back of her hand and she looked away, “Tonight. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” She echoed before scurrying away, almost running from her husband.

“Hmmp,” Dwalin sighed as he sat back down, “She’s mad at me. She has to be. I just don’t know what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Thorin commented as his smirk grew, “Well, something but she’s not mad,” The king’s eyes glimmered as he looked ready to laugh, “Rosy cheeks, bit of a waddle, apron’s a bit tighter,” Thorin spoke nonchalantly as he rebound his hair behind his head and stood, “Your wife is pregnant, Dwalin, and with an oaf like you for a husband, she’s probably terrified.”

Dwalin’s mouth fell open as he felt Thorin pat him on a shoulder, a muffled congratulations reaching his ears as he sat numb and bewildered.  _Y/N was pregnant?_ Oh, how poorly he would be a father when he could barely manage as a husband.


	12. Late Night

Dwalin stared at the ceiling, the soft snoring that filled the chamber calmed him. If Y/N was not soundly sleeping beside him, he was certain he would be up and pacing as he had been the last three nights. He had wanted to say something right after Thorin had realized what he was too daft to figure out on his own but when faced with his own wife, Dwalin had retreated.

She has always been fearsome but there was more behind her tired eyes. She was as terrified as he was. He had never wished to make her unhappy, thus he dreaded the moment he would find his courage and assure her she didn’t need to be afraid. He would be there for her. He wanted to be there for her.

She laid on her back, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. He could see beneath her sleeping gown that her stomach was already beginning to grow. It was so subtle that if he had not been looking for the signs, he would not have noticed.  _How could he be so obtuse?_   _Was he destined to be such a terrible husband?_

He looked to Y/N’s face, her hair in wild tangles around her head, her features the most peaceful he had seen them in weeks. As of late, she was sleeping heavier than before. When she woke, careful not to alert him but never very successful, she rose and hurried into the bath chamber. She returned and boiled her tea before brusquely saying farewell when she noticed Dwalin was awake.

Her eyes shot open suddenly and frightened Dwalin. He recoiled as she sat up abruptly and bolted towards the bath chamber. He could hear her retching from within, so desperate had she been that she had left the door ajar. He sighed and sat up slowly, his chest tightening as he forced himself to his feet.

He rounded the bed and neared the door of the bath chamber. Y/N leaned over the basin of lukewarm water, scooping a handful into her mouth and gargling. She spat the water into the commode and shut the lid, standing straight with a hand on her stomach. She turned and saw her husband, blanching as she dropped her hand.

“I must’ve ate something,” She lied as she walked towards him, “Excuse me.”

Dwalin stepped aside as she passed and she crossed to the table, lowering herself into a chair with a groan.

“You’re not coming back to bed?” He asked.

“Not yet,” She leaned back and pushed her hair away from her eyes, “I just need a moment.”

Dwalin took an ewer left over from his supper and filled a goblet with water, placing it before her as he sat at the other side of the table. “Drink, it will settle your stomach.”

“Thank you,” She said meekly, staring into the cup as she pulled it toward herself.

The wrinkles at the corner of her mouth creased as revulsion paled her and she slowly forced herself to sip the water. Silence encircled the pair; wife avoiding her husband’s unwavering gaze. He missed those few sweet months when they had talked about anything and everything. Those were the only days of his life he had felt content. As if for the first time, he could be himself. He had only ever wanted her to feel the same.

“I know,” He said, his voice was brittle and ready to crack. He cleared his throat as she set the goblet down without response. “Did you think I would be mad?”

He watched her in the dim light of the chamber, barely able to make out her features. She didn’t say a word, nor did she look at him. Her head hung and he could hear her breathing, but she would not speak. A whimper and a sniff pierced the hush and Dwalin realized his wife was crying.

He rose quietly, making certain not to move too quickly. He didn’t want to scare her. He didn’t want her to think him angry or disappointed. He only wanted to comfort her. He knelt before her, his old knees straining below him, and took her hands in his, feeling the remnant of tear on her fingers.

“Y/N, please don’t be afraid. Don’t be sad,” He held her trembling hands, surprised at his own composure. Within, his nerves were running wild. “I am happy. For you, for me. For us. This is a blessing. I never dreamed–”

“I’m too old,” She wept, “It is early and I will likely lose this child.” She gulped and tried to pull away but he clung to her, “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to lose it too. I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

“How long have you been with child?” He asked curiously, not that he knew much of the condition.

“Three months?” She said, “Not long at all.”

“Have you seen Oin? What does he say of the baby?”

“Healthy, as far as he can tell,” Her voice was growing steady the more she spoke, “But it’s early. Dwalin, you don’t understand.”

“I know that you are carrying our child and that I am inexorably delighted. And whatever comes, I will be by your side. We will face it together,” He stood, keeping her hands in his, “Y/N, listen to me,” He tugged on her gently and she rose as he let go of her and reached out to touch her middle, “As long as we are married, you will never be alone. I will always be there to pick you up and dust you off. The same goes for our child. I love you, Y/N, and I will never stop loving you.”

“But what if–”

“But what if Oin is right? Have you ever thought of that? You’re not too old, Y/N, you can’t be. Not if it’s possible,” He touched her cheek as he kept his other hand on her stomach. He wiped away the last of her tears before he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against him. “Just give it a chance. Give us a chance. Please.”

“I’m just so…scared,” She softened against him, burying her head into his shoulder, “I never wanted to let you down.”

“I know you won’t,” He assured her, “I know it because you can’t. There’s nothing you could ever do to make me think or feel anything less for you.” He embraced her with both arms, letting her cry into his nightshirt, “If you are as good a mother as you are a wife, you’ll be the best any child could hope for. And I know you will. You could never be anything less.”


	13. Expecting

Your morning sickness had lessened but other problems had arisen. Many of your tunics were painfully tight around your growing stomach, most unwearable. Dwalin had lent you one of his, the fabric hang loosely over your swelling bump. You still had much of your pregnancy to go but you were showing more and more by the day.

Still, you spent most of your time at work. You distracted yourself from the discomforts and inconveniences of your condition with it. Dwalin had even given you a special commission to keep you busy; a cradle. He had said that he only wanted the best for his child and none other could craft it but you. You were flattered but suspected it was yet another husbandly wile to ease your worries.

You absently smoothed the first side of the cradle, staring at the wall opposite you and shaking your leg to your own chagrin. Your nerves had grown worse since you had learned of your pregnancy and your control over your own body seemed to have been robbed of you. You set aside the wood and tossed the scraper, leaning against the wall behind you.

“Dear?” Dwalin’s voice shook you from your burst of uneasiness. He stood in the doorway, a basket under one arm, hesitant to break the threshold. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m…” You wiped the sweat from your brow with the tail of your apron, “I’m just anxious.”

“I told you,” He pulled up the other stool and sat, opening the basket at his feet and unpacking the foodstuff from within. He had taken to packing large lunches and eating with you every day. You could find no fault in the act as your hunger had grown inundated as late and your appetite was nigh impossible to sate, “Don’t worry so much. Oin says at this point, there is little difficulty to be had in the pregnancy.”

“What does a man know of ladies’ troubles?” You grumbled, unwrapping the sandwich he offered you with ravenous impatience, “I swear, medic he may be but I’d sooner trust a dam to advise me on my state.”

“Well, then perhaps you should go on and tell your mother already,” He chided, “Since you’ve waited so long, she’ll be offended all the same.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” You gripped your knee tightly, forcing it to cease its rattling, “I know she’ll be happy but…I don’t want to tell anyone. In case–”

“Can you not be hopeful for a single second?” Dwalin asked, “For us? For yourself?” He looked you over and a smile bloomed beneath his thick beard, “I tell you, I’ve never seen you so robust, nor so radiant.”

“Is that what you call it?” You mused and touched your cheek, ever blotchy from your condition, “I look like a right cow.”

“You look beautiful,” He assured you, “You are beautiful.”

“Alright, alright, if I agree to tell my mother will you quit your babbling?”

“Never,” He replied coyly, “But for a time, I shall mind your sensitivities.”

“My sensitivities?” You nearly growled, the heat rising up your spine.

“I agree to your terms, my dear,” He sputtered defensively, “I swear it, just do not unleash your wrath on me.”

“Oh, you,” He truly did know how to rile you these days.  _Or was that the hormones?_ “I’ll tell her tonight, happy?”

“We’ll tell her,” Dwalin stated victoriously, biting into his own sandwich as you stifled your irritation beneath your hunger. You were to grant your mother her greatest wish, or at least, you would offer her hope of it. A hope which you just could not find.

* * *

You had expected your mother to be in a sour mood. You had avoided her for the better part of the last months. Those moments when you had seen her were fleeting and you had not been very subtle in your evasion. So it was, that she answered her door slowly and nearly slammed it in your face. Had Dwalin not caught it and pled with her sweetly, you would’ve been left out in the corridor.

“Well, it’s nice of you to finally come see your old mother,” She said ruefully, “Mahal knows, I’ve all the time left to me to wait on my own daughter to visit.”

“Mother,” You sighed as she sat in her favourite chair; the embroidered fabric worn along the arms.

“Well, then what’s the occasion?” She asked wryly as you sat next to your husband upon her sofa; he nudged you as if to compare your mother’s temper to your own. You scowled at him briefly before turning back to your maternal inquisitor.

“Mother, I am sorry for having not come sooner,” You frowned, the guilt sinking in, “I did not mean to neglect you.”

“I understand, marriage is busy, especially early on,” She quipped raunchily, “Even so, you must make time for your own mother. I shouldn’t have even bothered answering the door.”

“Can you not let me apologize or should I get down on my knees and beg?” You huffed.

“You’re as stubborn as your father was, I know well I won’t get you so easily,” She laughed, “And I hold no grudge for you, dear. You know me, I like to tease.”

“So you do,” You inhaled deeply, trying to quell your rising anger. How the waves rose over you and seemed to drown all other emotion. “Look, do you want us here or not?”

“Y/N,” Dwalin took your hand, rubbing the back of it calmingly. As much as he could incense you, he could as easily placate you. He looked to your mother and continued, “I must be the one to apologize. I’ve kept your daughter to myself, quite selfishly, and I did not think of anything but my own will,” You had never heard him speak so eloquently and you gaped at him.

“Aye, you’re a good man, Dwalin,” She smiled and the venom drained from her voice, “Truly, I am relieved for the visit.”

“But we must admit, there is a purpose to us being here,” Dwalin was fidgeting, his hand gripped yours tighter, “We have…” He looked to you hesitantly, “News.”

“News?” Her brows knitted together and she fixated on you as you began to squirm. Her eyes lingered on you, to your stomach and she went suddenly pale. “Oh, I thought you’d gotten soft, dear, but don’t tell me it’s a child?”

“It is,” You answered hoarsely, your throat dry and head spinning.

“Oh!” She jumped up, clasping her hands before her, “A child!” She laughed, this time with genuine glee, “Oh, Y/N,” She scurried towards you and placed a kiss on your forehead, turning to do the same to Dwalin who blushed at the gesture, “Are you taking care of her, you brute?” She prodded, “You better be. She’s nearly an old dam as I am. A child–”

“Is most perilous, we know,” You asserted before she could begin to rant, “Which is why we waited so long to tell you…”

“Am I the last to know?” She suddenly returned to reproach.

“Likely the first,” Dwalin intoned, “She was loathe to tell even me.”

“Oh, she would be,” Your mother nodded, walking over to a large chest and throwing open the lid, “Always so stubborn.” She reached within and pulled out a folded blanket of multi-coloured patches, “I’ve been saving this. I thought to give it to your brother and feared it may turn to dust, but it is for you.” She neared and held out the quilt, “My mother made it for me when you were born. You likely recognize it, but I hope your own child should use it in kind.”

You took it, the faded patches igniting a sense of familiarity. You felt the still soft material with your fingers and your anger turned to inexplicable tears. You fought to hold them in and sniffed, looking up at your mother despairingly. “Oh, mother!” You tried not to dissemble, Dwalin wrapping his arm around you for strength.

“Definitely pregnant,” Your mother opined with a grin, “Be strong, lad,” She touched Dwalin’s shoulder kindly, “You’ve a long way to go.”


	14. Closer

“Dwalin!” It was a half-screech, filled with despair and anger. You stared at your reflection, ready to break the mirror into pieces. “Oh, Mahal!”

The bodice of your gown was taught around your stomach, the seams ready to burst. The fabric pinched your waist and you looked like a floating tent, your skirts ballooning with each step. Your stomach had only grown in the last months; the closer your time came, the bigger you got.

 _And oh, how your bones ached!_  You had thought you were old before, but now you felt ancient. Your chest had also swollen and you were little more than an orb on legs. Whatever child grew within you must have been half-giant. Perhaps, Dwalin had some ogre blood in his lineage he had not disclosed.

“What is it, my love?” Your husband appeared behind you, shielding himself behind the door. As of late, your moods had grown volatile and often, he found himself at your mercy. After, you were overwhelmed with guilt as tears drowned you and he’d be there to comfort you. You couldn’t figure how he could weather such an awful storm as you.

“Look at me!” You turned, or rather tottered, resting your hand a top your stomach, “I hate dresses but this is worse!” You felt the stretched stitches with disdain, “I only had my last fitting three days ago and it’s too small.”

“You look lovely,” He neared cautiously, setting his hands on your shoulder, his middle touching yours, “As always. As beautiful as our wedding day.”

“Oh, you, be quiet! You and your lies!” You cursed him and turned back to the mirror and sighed, “I’ve not much choice. There’s not a garment in the mountain that will fit me now.”

“We won’t stay longer than we need to,” He ceded, “The ceremony shouldn’t be very long and we can sneak out of the feast easily enough.”

“Food is the one thing I’m looking forward to,” You grumbled, “Though I suspect it’s not helping my problem. And Kili would be upset if he thought we spurned his union. With all the difficulty between Thorin and the she-elf, he’s more sensitive than me.”

“Well, you’re about ready to go to labour so I doubt he should hold it against you, love,” He neared, stopping beside you to place a gentle peck on your temple, “Though I long to hold you against me.”

“Ugh, enough, you’ve married an elephant,” You whined; your hair had grown so thick, it quickly fell from its braids and there seemed more silver intertwined in the strands than a year ago, “Help me get my slippers on, dear.” You waited for him to precede you out of the bath chamber, too broad to squeeze past him, “Though my feet are likely too swollen.”

You sat in the armchair heavily and Dwalin faithfully helped you into your shoes. He pulled you back to your feet, the ability to do so on your own having dwindled long ago. You were nearly out of breath, rubbing your stomach out of habit as you looked at your ever patient husband. His hair was combed, his jacket finely tailored, and his fingernails clean.

“Oh, dear, you look so handsome,” You purred, “I must look a mess next to you.”

“You outshine me as you always have,” He vowed and took your hand, “Let’s go before you’re overcome with another fit of anguish.”

“Right,” You took his arm, leaning against him heavily as you walked, “Though I can’t promise anything…these days my mind and body seem as if they belong to someone else.”

* * *

The ceremony felt as if it had carried on forever. You sat along the bench, sweating in your gown and trying not to fidget in discomfort. Your lower back ached and you were fighting through the fatigue which washed over you in waves. It was a blessing when the couple was declared sanctified and you could stand and stretch your legs, as much as they buckled under the weight of your stomach.

You were ravenous by the time you reached the great hall, food set out in platters, wafting savory aromas throughout. Dwalin helped you to your seat and you eagerly dug in, distracting yourself with the flavours. When at last you were sated, you wiped your fingers and looked to your husband. You wouldn’t mind leaving early; your back was killing you and there was terrible pain brewing in your stomach.

“Should we give our congratulations?” You asked as you shifted, the sweat forming on your brow. You felt awful. You may have eaten too much.

“Of course, love,” Dwalin paused as he looked to you, “Are you well?”

“I’m fine, just pregnant,” You kidded as you waited for him to help you up, “I need to lay down is all.”

“Alright, let us go see off the newlyweds and we’ll get you to bed,” He sounded concerned but his expression was stony, as if he was trying to hide his thoughts from you.

You found Kili and Tauriel amidst a crowd of well-wishers. Fili was rustling Kili’s hair and teasing him while his wife leaned down in a hushed conversation with her mother-in-law. Dis broke off the conversation as she saw you approach, looking you over closely. She stepped nearer and touched your cheek kindly, “You look flushed.”

“I’m fine,” You swatted her away, “I only came to bless your son’s union,” You touched your stomach as a pang arose in it and turned to the groom, “Kili,” You reached out to take his hand, clinging onto it as a bolt of lightning went through you.

The prince caught your elbow as you sunk to your knees and cried out. Dwalin was at your side in an instant and another ripple tore through you. You gripped Kili so tightly he whined and you began to pant, panic rising within you. Your head spun as Oin appeared before you and your husband helped Kili lift you to your feet.

“Her time has come,” The medic declared flatly as if you were not being ripped apart from the inside, “We need to get her to bed.”

“No, it can’t be,” You moaned as they tried to help you walk, “Not yet.”

“Shhh,” Dwalin held onto you, an arm around your shoulder as your fingers were pried from Kili’s hand, “It’s alright. You’re alright. It’s not far.”

“Don’t–tell–me–it’s—alright,” You grunted with each word as another contraction came, “You! You did this! Aaahhh!”

“Just another step, love,” He cooed, surprising and enraging you with his composure;  _why did you have to be the one to carry the child? To have it claw its way from your womb_. “Shh, shhh, Y/N, you’re almost there. Just a bit further.”

You were blinded with pain but all you could do was go forward. Dwalin urged you on with each step and his voice was all you could hear amid your cries of agony. You didn’t know if you could do it. You were afraid.  _What if the child didn’t make it? What if you didn’t?_

_Had you come this far for nothing?_


	15. Labour Pains

The pain was unbearable. Worse than any wound you had suffered in battle. As Dwalin helped you onto the bed, you let out an anguished cry, too entwined in your pain to move. He shifted your legs so they were on the mattress, sprawled as you writhed in agony. You couldn’t help the panting which overtook you, as if you were trying to catch your breath against the contractions.

Your husband was beside you but had never felt him sit down. He took your hand, shaking yet gripping his own feverishly. You felt as if you were dying. Something was wrong. The torture of the baby trying to find its way out was too much. This couldn’t possibly be normal.

You felt firm hands bend your legs for you, propping them up over pillows as your skirts bunched at your waist. You clung to Dwalin as he cooed in your ear, pushing the hair away from your forehead. You were soaked in sweat but shivering, shaking in your labour.

“Y/N, my love, please, it’s alright, you’re alright,” Dwalin’s voice was low but steady as he bent to whisper in your ear; he placed a kiss on your cheek as he held you warmly. “You’re going to be alright…you’re going to be a mother soon.”

“No, no,” You screamed as another stab rippled across your pelvis and up your spine, “I can’t, I can’t. I’m not ready. This was a bad idea.”

“Bad idea?” He almost scoffed, “My love, we didn’t really plan this out…and you haven’t much of a choice.”

“You,” You seized his collar angrily, holding him in place before he could sit up, “I’m going to kill you for this. This is your monster burying its nails into my flesh; tearing me open from the insi—AAAAHHHH!”

You released him, grabbing instead for the bed sheet beneath you. You were whining and wailing. Making noises you didn’t think possible. Your vision hazed in and out, your husband wavering before your eyes. His face was a stoic as ever; no doubt or despair. Though it wasn’t as if he had much to worry about; he wasn’t being exorcised of some horrid wretch.

“Dwalin,” You heard Oin call from the foot of the bed; the medic a shadow tending to your torture.

Slowly, your husband rose, placing one last kiss on your cheek as you swatted him away. You watched his blurred figure lumber towards the other dwarf, a hush of voice rising around you in a sinister growl. The room was distorted as you tried to find your bearings; your eyes unable to fix upon one sight and your ears unable to separate one noise from another.

Something was surely wrong.

Dwalin watched Y/N as she whimpered, holding her hand and trying to quell the bursts of profanity which washed over her with each contraction. He tried to recall what Dis had told him of labour. It had been an awkward conversation, clumsy on his part, but he had listened, hoping that in the moment his panic would not overwhelm her words.

But as he watched his wife, the fire and fear in her eyes, he couldn’t help but worry. This was more pain than he could have imagined;  _was something amiss?_  Even as she hissed and snapped at him, telling him to go and threatening his life, he could do not but remain. He held onto her as tightly as she did to him, hoping to be the rock amid her storm.

He had to be strong; it was what he had always been good at. She needed him now to help her through, though she was truly doing all the work. She was much braver than he; much more resilient. These past months of watching the life grow within her, of watching her carry his child, had shown him that. He could have not hoped for a greater wife.

He was shaken from his admiration, his worry, his fears, by the medics gravelly voice. He looked to Oin and slowly stood, prying his hand from Y/N’s reluctantly. Something in the dwarf’s expression, his voice, his stance foretold danger. Dwalin’s dread was suffocating; as he glanced at his wife one last time, his breath hitched.

“Oin,” He approached the medic cautiously, “What it is?”

“Her labour will be rough,” He spoke quietly, his eyes flicking back and forth between husband and wife, “She a hardy dam, I know it, but it will not be easy.”

“Is the child well?” Dwalin was breathing again but close to hyperventilating.

“As far as I can tell,” The grey dwarf touched Dwalin’s shoulder, “Don’t you get hysterical on me, you donkey. You just need to do one thing; keep Y/N as calm as you can. Hold her hand, count her breaths with her. That’s all you can do.”

“Alright, alright,” Dwalin wiped his hands on his tunic, his palm suddenly slick with sweat, “I can do that.”

“You tell me if a fever builds though,” Oin rescinded his touch, “Or if anything seems off.”

“Of course,” Dwalin nodded frantically, “I’ll keep her safe…” He looked to the bed where Y/N began to holler once more, “I swore to her I would.”

The wails of a newborn rang throughout the chamber. After a parade of curses and cries from Y/N, the change in tone was a startling relief. Dwalin’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened as he smiled down at his wife. She had finally relaxed, breathing slowly as she closed her eyes, a shadow of a grin upon her lips.

“The child? The child is well?” She murmured, reached out frailly with one hand.

Oin approached with the naked babe, setting it in Y/N’s arms. Dwalin marveled at the child as his wife opened her eyes to do the same. Merely looking seemed to take all Y/N’s strength and her head sank heavily into the pillow as her eyes closed once more and she sighed. “Thank Mahal.”

“A daughter,” Oin announced, “Healthy, and the biggest babe I’ve set my eyes on.”

Dwalin was in disbelief as he watched his daughter squirm and babble in her mother’s arms. The moment came to a frightening halt as Y/N’s arms went limp and the child bobbled, a cry of surprise squeaking from her lips. Oin caught the babe before she could roll from her mother’s breast, scooping her up with ease.

“Dwalin, take the child,” His voice was even but held a shade of worry, “It’s your turn to meet the girl anyhow.”

With reverence, Dwalin took his daughter, his eyes glistening, her warmth spreading through him the moment he touched her. Even so, his mind was fraught as he watched the medic touch his wife’s forehead. A sheen of sweat was glossy across her face and her chest seemed barely to rise. He hugged his child to him, cooing with worry as he watched over his wife.

Oin neared the foot of the bed and looked between Y/N’s legs. His face paled and he stood straight with a grimace. He gulped as he approached Dwalin and touched his elbow kindly, speaking in a low voice, “Take the child out.”

He guided him to the door with urgency, “She needs her father right now.” Dwalin tried to look past Oin as he spoke, but the medic stood in his view, “Go to the kitchens and feed her goat’s milk until Y/N awakes…she is tired from her labour. It was quite arduous.”

“Oin,” Dwalin was trembling, “What’s going on?”

“Go,” Oin squeezed his arm before opening the door, “Worry about the child.”

Oin half-closed the door behind Dwalin, hurrying back towards the bed as he took a towel from the pile and approached Y/N’s lifeless legs. Dwalin could see the puddle of blood forming beneath his wife before the grey dwarf could shield him from the scene.

Tears rose, this time of despair and he forced himself to close the door. He knew there was nothing he could do but listen to Oin. Even if his wife was dying on his bed, he knew he was useless. He looked to his daughter instead, a tear splashing onto her rosy skin. She had her mother’s nose; he only hoped Y/N would live long enough to see it.


	16. The Unknown

Dwalin was barely holding it together by the time he reached the kitchens. The royal wedding had ended hours ago but servants still fumbled around the counters; some cleaning the mess from the night before and others preparing the morning meal. He looked around, the staff oblivious to his presence as he felt his nerves flurry in time with their work.

He cradled his child with one arm. She did not even have a name yet. He was still trying to register that he actually had a daughter. This small being wriggling against his chest was a part of him…and a part of the woman he loved. The dam who at the very moment could be dead. He nearly choked at the thought, looking down at the babe as he searched for hope.

He stood in the door of the kitchens, staring into the eyes of his daughter. He did not move as he felt her heart beating, counting each patter. He should be happy; his child was alive. He was a father, something he never thought he would be,  _but at what cost?_

“Umph,” Dwalin didn’t flinch as another walked into his back, “What are you doing standing there like a statue?” Dis scolded and he slowly stepped out of her way, turning to her, “What are you even–Oh, Mahal, who is this?”

The anger drained from the dowager’s eyes as she saw the child held in Dwalin’s arm. She neared and leaned down to babble at the baby, touching its cheek softly. She looked up at Dwalin as he remained silent, a tear teetering at the corner of his eye. His lips puckered and he sniffed, holding back his grief.

“Dwalin, what are do doing here?”

“Oin…he told me to get her goat’s milk,” His voice cracked as he spoke.

“Right,” He could see the question behind her eyes;  _why could Y/N not feed her own child?_  “Come, sit.”

She led him deeper into the kitchens, directing him to a stool. She was as gentle with him as she was with his daughter. She turned and padded away in her slippers, returning with a bowl of pale milk and a cloth. She dipped a corner in and held it to the baby’s lips, taking his free hand and wrapping it around the fabric. “Like this.”

He took the cloth and held it in place, blindly listening to the suckling. He was trapped in ice as reality muted the colours around him. All was grey as he thought of life without his beloved. He could feel his chin quivering but he had no strength left in him.  _He could not control fate, so why control himself?_

“Dwalin,” Dis touched his hand. She had rounded the counter and stood next to him, “What has happened?”

“Y/N,” His voice was hoarse, painful through the lump caught in his throat, “She’s…not well.” He peered into the princess’ eyes, “She’s dying. She’s going to leave me all alone. Our daughter. How am I to do it without her?”

“Shh, shh,” Dis wiped away the first tear to fall, rubbing his back as he began to sob. He brought the child closer as he began to rock on the stool, trying to protect his child from his own sadness, “You said Oin was tending to her?”

“Mmmhmm,” He grumbled, unable to speak against the onslaught of his tears.

“Then I trust she’ll be just fine,” She said soothingly, “He’s the smartest medic I know. There is no one else in this mountain who could do better for her.”

“You didn’t see her,” He rasped, “You didn’t see the blood.”

“Listen to me,” Dis seized him by the shoulder, steadying him, “You have a daughter in your arms. You need to focus on her. Feed her. Put her to bed.  _Love her_.” She set her chin and breathed deeply, “I bled with Kili. I thought I wouldn’t make it but I stand here before you now. This is not the moment to lose hope.”

Dwalin shook his head, shifting his daughter in his arm as he dipped the cloth in the bowl once more. He had not the energy to argue with a Durin.

“Listen, you donkey,” She continued, “I’ve never known you to stop fighting and I know that’s because you don’t have it in you to lose faith. Now you dry those tears.” She wiped his cheeks with the sleeve of her robe, “I never seen you blubber before, you old lout, and I don’t want to see it again.”

She patted him on his shoulder as she finished drying his face and looked to the child. She smiled and bent to kiss the girl’s forehead. “You get to thinking of a name,” She pointed at his large nose, “It’ll save Y/N some trouble when she’s recovered.”

* * *

The last time Dwalin had sat on this very couch, Y/N had been beside him. Now it was only his daughter; wrapped in a crocheted blanket and dozing quietly against his thigh. Besi, Y/N’s mother was sat in her armchair, her knobby hands clasped together in a half-prayer. Her glassy eyes stared at the wall behind him.

When he had knocked, she had answered with glee. She had taken the child from him with excitement, having waited so long for her arrival. But it hadn’t taken a moment for her to notice Dwalin’s silence and the despair set in the wrinkles of his forehead. She invited him in with a fearful tremor in her voice and he entered reluctantly.

“How long’s it been?” She asked; the first time she had spoken since he had explained the scene of her daughter’s labour.

“An couple of hours or so? I’ve lost track of the time,” He croaked, “Dis said she’d send for me if anything changed.”

“Mmm,” The old dam stood, gripping her lower back, “Dwalin,” She neared him with careful steps, offering her hands to him. He took them, her veins bulging and her skin like crepe paper. “You need to promise me something.”

“What?” He looked up at Besi, her age all too apparent in the quiver of her chin.

“I haven’t much longer left to me. I’m blessed to have seen my grandchild born,” She glanced over at the sleeping babe, “If something should happen to my daughter, look after that one.”

“Of course,” He squeezed her hands, his eyes prickling once more, “I promise.”

A knock came from the door, shattering the mournful vigil. Dwalin looked to the source, his breath catching as he waited for the next rap. It came quickly and someone called from the other side.

“Dwalin,” Dis’ thick voice seeped through the door, “Come quick.”


	17. The Time Has Come

Dwalin took his daughter in his arms and stood. She was still fast asleep and he took comfort from her warmth. If all was lost, at least he still had her. He looked to his mother-in-law who stood wringing her hands. Her slight stoop made her seem even more distraught and for the first time, she showed doubt. He knew now where Y/N got her strength.

He crossed to the door, opening it quietly as he tried not to jostle his child. Dis stood before him, her blue eyes glowing with impatience and worry. _Was this it? Would hers be the face he would remember when he looked back on the day when all fell apart? Was Dis to be the harbinger of his doom?_

“Come see her,” Her voice was low and sonorous; Besi neared Dwalin’s shoulder and stared at the dowager anxiously, “Both of you.”

“Is she–” Dwalin couldn’t say the words; his throat contracting painfully as if they could prevent the tides of fate.

Dis looked at him, her eyes reflecting him. She saw in Dwalin a dwarf near breaking; one who was so tired he was jittery; so afraid that he was frightening. She touched his elbow but her stoicism gave him little reassurance. He wanted to run; to reach his beloved before she was gone from him.

“Give me the child,” She said calmly, “I’ll bring her and Besi. You go ahead.”

Dwalin’s eyes burned with rising tears as he looked to his daughter; _was this all he would have left of her?_ She was as beautiful as her mother already. He was trembling as he began to nod, giving his child over to Dis. He bent to kiss the babe’s forehead and embraced Besi before turning down the corridor.

Dwalin had marched to war. He had traversed the crags and rivers of Middle Earth. He had descended into the suffocating mines of his people where no light nor hope languished. He had bled to within an inch of his life. He had watched his comrades fall to the enemy. But never had he been more afraid. Never had he run faster.

He skidded to a halt before his chamber door, catching himself with the handle. He closed his eyes as he caught his breath, leaning his forehead against the stone door while he said one final prayer. He pressed the lever, pushing inward though he had never opened a door so heavy. It took all his strength to move the door and within, the room smelled of old blood and sweat.

Oin sat on a chair, his head lolling backward as he snored loudly. The bed had been stripped and Y/N laid in the middle of it, wrapped in a thick quilt. A shroud which held her body; her sickly face exposed to the chamber. She did not move.

“Oi,” Dwalin was suddenly filled with rage as he turned back to the dozing medic.

His grief was suddenly replaced with the depths of his ire. All that resent and bitterness which had shaped his life before Y/N. Not the day they had married or the day he had found out she would be travelling with him upon the quest. But the day he had first seen her.

He remembered it so clearly. He had been in the tavern; his third pint in his hand and another night of amnesia waiting at the bottom of it. She traipsed in like any dwarrow, her hands filthy from working and her hair frizzy from sweat. She approached the bar and ordered a stein, downing nearly all of it in a single gulp.

Amongst a room of drunken dwarves, he had noticed her and he couldn’t look away, but he had been too much of a coward to know. Too weak to admit to himself that she was his One or to even think of approaching her. _Why had he waited so long to find his courage?_ He should have told her that day back in Ered Luin. He had wasted so much time being alone.

“Wake up,” He kicked Oin’s chair harshly, “Now.”

“Huh–ugh,” The grey dwarf woke with a start, yawning into his sleeve, “Oh, s’you.”

“S’me,” Dwalin mimicked sharply, “Waiting for you to wake as my wife lays–” He gestured to the bed before clasping his chest; overwrought with the sudden surge of grief, “Lays…”

“Breathing?” Oin stood, “Alive? Did you think to check her pulse, you jackass? Or to touch her forehead? There’s a fever still and her breath is faint but we stemmed the bleeding and stabilized her.” The medic cuffed Dwalin in the arm, “I worked the last half-day to make sure of it because I know you’re a right horse’s arse when you don’t get your way.”

“Alive?” Dwalin mumbled, “Alive?!” His voice rose and he seized Oin, forcing him into an unwelcomed embraced, “She’s alive!”

“She is,” The medic shoved him away, “Mahal’s sake, that was an experience I never wanted.”

“Thank you, Oin,” Dwalin nearly sang.

“Don’t even think of kissing me,” Oin warned grimly, “But seeing as you’re here now, I’ll let you to watch over her,” He yawned between words, “Dis knows what needs to be done if she awakes and I trust you know how to hold her hand just well enough…though I know you’ve the patience of a troll at suppertime.”

Dwalin smiled, his lips trembling as the storm of relief and stress washed over him. He had been fighting to hold it all back and to think his beloved still breathed felt like a dream. He turned to the bed, listening to the medic’s departure as he neared wearily. He sat down softly, trying not to disturb Y/N.

He sat against the headboard, his legs stretched over the mattress, his hand on his wife’s shoulder. He had to touch her; to make sure she was really there. He could feel her breathing and even hear it. Never had he felt more joy than this. He felt his wife’s warmth along his leg and closed his eyes, slowly drifting into a long-needed sleep.


	18. For Better or Worse (Finale)

It felt as if you had been gone for a while. Not asleep, just gone. Your eyelids were thick and puffy as you opened them, a rumble sounding from beside you. Dwalin was slumped against the headboard, his snores filling the room. You smelled of dried sweat and your own stench. And your stomach…

“My baby!” You tried to sit up and gasped at the pain it caused, falling back with a whimper.

Dwalin snorted beside your as he awoke and turned to face you, helping you lay back on the pillows. He touched your forehead and then your cheeks, taking your hand in his and kissing it. He smiled as his eyes glistened and you saw tension drain from his shoulders.

“Amaralime,” He breathed, “Be easy. Don’t labour yourself.”

You were remembering all that had led to the darkness. The immense pain, the panic, the feeling that something just wasn’t right. You remembered holding Dwalin’s hand before it all faded away.

“What–Where’s my child?” You whined, feeling helpless as the pain kept you prone.

“She’s here,” Your mother appeared at the foot of the bed, a bundle in her arms. She set the child in your arms and you nestled her against your chest, “She’ll need feeding soon. She’s waited to long for her own mother’s milk.”

Dwalin wouldn’t stop touching you. He kept his hand on your shoulder, sweeping a stray hair from your forehead, and tracing the lines of your jaw as if he could not believe you were there. You weren’t sure what had happened but your labour must have gone awry.

“I thought…” He looked down at you and the babe in awe, “I thought I’d lost you, Y/N.”

You glanced from him to your child, admiring her round nose and observant eyes. You had almost died and hadn’t even known it. You wouldn’t have even known your child had survived as you lingered in the black. You were suddenly very grateful for your very consciousness.

The presence of you One at your shoulder and your child upon your chest. Your mother watching from the bedside, her aged features lined with anxiousness. The bed beneath you felt all the more softer and the fire burned warmer in its hearth. You had lived and now you had one more reason to do so. A daughter.

“Maamr,” You spoke to you mother, “Is this how it felt when you looked at me? Is this happiness?”

“You and your brother are the only joy I ever found in this world,” Your mother bent to kiss your cheek, pausing to do the same to your daughter. “And now you’ve given me even more. I am a grandmother.”

You felt your eyes well but no tears came. You were still weak and had not the moisture to spare. You touched the brow of your daughter and smiled. “Dwalin, help me sit up, please.”

Your husband gently moved you, readjusting the pillows below you to prop you up. You held your child up to look at her fully. You could see her father in her and your mother. All the beauty you had ever found in the world babbled across from you.

“She’s got her mother, now she needs a name,” Dis appeared beside your mother; her dark hair pulled back in a half-bun, her blue eyes cloudy with exhaustion, “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“I could not name her without her maamr,” Dwalin added, settling next to you on the bed.

“Hmmm,” You thought as the girl reached out to touch your nose, “How’s Beti, mother? For her great grandmother?”

“I was thinking the very same,” Your mother touched the babe’s crown and slowly retreated, “We should leave the new parents to their bliss,” She clasped her hands before her, “Don’t you ever scare my like that again, girl.”

“I won’t,” You promised as she took Dis’ arm, leaning on the Dowager who began to lead her to the door.

Dis paused and turned, looking over her shoulder with a grin, “When you see Kili, do apologize. The poor dwarf spent his wedding night having his hand set.”

“His hand?” You asked mortified, recalling how you had grabbed him so tightly he had exclaimed, “Oh, Mahal, I didn’t…”

“He’s fine,” Dis assured as she opened the door, “He’s got his wife to tend to him now.”

With that, she ushered your mother into the corridor and pulled the door closed softly behind her. The room felt smaller all of a sudden.

“I like it, Beti,” Dwalin said with a smile as he reached out to touch his daughter’s tuft of hair, “It suits her…she’s strong like her foremothers.”

You reached over to tug on his beard, kissing his lips gently and leaning against him.

“When you were…away from me,” Dwalin began quietly, “I thought of all the things I had never told you. That I may never get to tell you and I was so afraid. I promised myself to tell you it all.” He took your hand in his, stroking the back of it with his thumb.

“You’re my One, Y/N, there could never be another. Before we stood at that altar I knew it. When we first reclaimed the Mountain and worked to restore it, the dust streaked across your cheeks and chin; I knew it. As we trekked across rivers and through forests and you swung your sword like a heathen; I knew it. In Ered Luin as you stepped outside your forge and kicked up dust along the streets; I knew. The day I first saw you in the tavern, you didn’t even know I was there but I knew it. I knew you were the One.”

“Hmmp,” You gave a stifled chuckle and tilted your head at him, “Did you think I didn’t notice you watching me? Why did you think I downed the pint in one go?” You squeezed his hand, Beti squirming in your arm, “I knew it. I was too afraid to accept it but I knew it, too.”

You closed your eyes as you leaned against Dwalin’s shoulder, the warmth of your family surrounding you. All that struggle; the insecurity, the doubt, the fear. Those days when you had thought yourself less than him and languished in your own darkness. When that very moment had seemed to you little more than a fantasy. It had all been worth it.

It had all led to this and you would not take back a single tear. You had vowed it to him; for better or worse.

* * *

_Author’s Note: I don’t usually do these kind of things but I feel like I have too. I started this series in October 2017 and I have continued you into June 2018. As the last chapter, I feel bittersweet hitting the post button. I feel like this is the ending the series deserves and yet, as I always do, I feel compelled to go on but I would hate to carry this into tedium. Instead, I will say thank you to all those who read and enjoyed this series. I love you all!_


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